


All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go

by headsupimhere



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Alpha!Dutch Van der Linde, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Omega!Arthur Morgan, Omegaverse, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:36:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 66,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17517113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headsupimhere/pseuds/headsupimhere
Summary: It’s a cold winter day when Dutch, draped in dark grey and hazy black, approaches the small wooden building sitting just above a large patch of dry land. With the density of the bayou air, it's the kind of frigid cold which clings and causes a man to sweat, then chills him to the bone by freezing along the skin.





	1. A Dangerous Business

**Author's Note:**

> Take caution in reading, or skim over the comments on a few chapters if you want to skip the possibly-triggering content.  
> Thank you, and enjoy!

It’s a cold winter day when Dutch, draped in dark grey and hazy black, approaches the small wooden building sitting just above a large patch of dry land. With the density of the bayou air, it's the kind of frigid cold which clings and causes a man to sweat, then chills him to the bone by freezing along the skin.

The mud slowly consuming the soles of the alpha’s boots is disadvantageous; however, it is well known that this practice is one to take the utmost precaution in pursuing, seeing as it is strictly prohibited in all four of their surrounding states, and thus is worth the extra mile of lurking in the swamplands. Luckily, Dutch had caught word of this place before the law had become involved, and has been doing business with the man keeping order of the place, for years.

Dutch is glad he’d removed his spurs before lowering himself to the ground from the stagecoach, seeing as the mire clings to his boots in a way he despises. He’d made sure Trelawny accompanied him for this as a driver, always wanting a bit of personal time right at the beginning to break in the rules. As soon as he’d set foot on the marshy ground, he’d asked the beta to bring the stagecoach back around within forty-five minutes, and that he should be finished by the end of that time, if not sooner. Trelawny had simply nodded and thrown down the reins, removing himself from the scene as quickly as possible.

Placing his gloved hand on the railing, Dutch climbs the few steps up to the door, as he’d done time and time before, and swiftly strikes the wood with his clothed knuckle. Stepping back away from the door, he watches the rectangular eyehole slide open, two young, frightened eyes peering out at him before relaxing and disappearing again. Dutch hears the familiar clanking of miniature chains. A multitude of rusty, worn locks have embellished the inside of the door for years, and every single one of them is mentally accounted for before the man fully comes into view, a relieved smile on his face.

“Ah, Dutch, so glad to see you. Didn’t expect to see you, ‘specially with the happenin’s of just a few days ago.” The beta male’s slight limp is obviously shown as he waves the alpha into the homey-looking hut and glances out before shutting the door and securing all of the locks. Dutch turns to look at the man, essentially towering over him as he works his nimble fingers against the locks.

“Oh? And what’s happened, Cecil?” Dutch allows himself to sit back in a chair, watching as the beta hobbles across the floor and lifts a kettle from the stove, along with a glass. The glass is set down against the table and a moderate amount of tea is shakily poured into it. “Leg is looking rather stable.”

Cecil had lost half of a leg several years ago due to a feral omega unknowingly retracting rabies from a nearby boar while being forced to hunt, and later clamping its teeth down into Cecil’s bare calf in an act of defiance. It was a horrendous sight for everyone involved, especially when Dutch had to hook his arms under Cecil’s and pull him away, attempting to ignore the cries of agony from the poor beta. Cecil was taken to a nearby doctor and his leg was sawed clean off within the day, before it could spread, leaving him with a mere stump. An inventor saw the carnage when they’d entered the office and later provided Dutch with the proposition of a false extremity, which Dutch took with little hesitance. The inventor had mentioned little-to-no physical pain, and Dutch was essentially sold.

“Y’know. Only the best for me and my business.” Cecil sarcastically waves his hand about, a small, derisive smile on his face. “Few of the younger ones got loose, found a horse nearby, piled on back of it and rode off to Annesburg. Small town, but hell, the amount of officers they can send is insane.” Dutch lifts the glass to his mouth and takes a swig, immediately regretting it and forcing the liquid down as to not be rude. Shaking his head to disperse the nausea, he replaces the glass on the table and reminds himself not to attempt it again. “An’ sure. Gives me a bit of trouble every now and again, but it’s better than nothin’.”

“They get any of the others?” Dutch looks at Cecil, examining the man’s shoulder movements as he speaks. The beta is a clear shot of reading, as he wears all of his emotions on his face when someone has gotten close enough to him. Dutch knows exactly what makes him tick, just as he does most of his acquaintances and “close friends”.

“Nah, luckily, I was able to get all of ‘em asleep an’ silent before them officers came bargin’ in. Told me everything he was aware of, and I just sent him on his way. Didn’t even think to check, the dumbass.” Cecil moves as if he’s suddenly remembered something. “Speakin’uh. What’cha here for this time? Got any clue or just lookin’?” He gestures over his shoulder at the trapdoor, a smug smile on his face. “Got a few new ones. Omegas, if them’s what you came searchin’ for.” Dutch sits up in his chair as Cecil shambles over toward the trapdoor and leans down to swipe a few things aside. His fingers catch the handle and the door easily pulls open, propped open by the back wall. “If not, I still got a lot of betas for the takin’. You’re a great lot of my business, see.”

“As I am well aware, my friend.” Dutch pushes himself to his feet, stepping up to the trapdoor and watching as Cecil slowly sits on the edge of the wood and reaches for a nearby lantern. A matchbox sits beside it, and one little stick is retrieved before being dragged swiftly across the wooden boards. The candle inside of the lantern is lit within moments, Cecil snuffing the match out and dropping it into the hole before himself. He clambers down into the darkness, feet caught by a noisy set of stairs until he finally reaches the abstruse second level of wooden flooring. The beta stops there, holding the lantern up as Dutch follows.

The short corridor Dutch has become quite acquainted with greets them there, and Cecil gives him a look before continuing on. The man shakes a key ring from his belt loop and Dutch follows along, hands clasped behind his back. He notices the temperature change from above ground to below, likely because of the mud’s insulation, unless Cecil has managed to get so many into those few rooms; enough to warm the entirety of the lower level, which wouldn’t be out of the question.

The door comes into view and it’s unlocked easily, swung open. Immediately, the scent of omega’s heat and alpha’s rut smacks Dutch across the face. The two scents almost cancel themselves out in a way, meaning that Dutch is hardly affected by it, at least physically. His mental state had been quickly deteriorated when he’d stood in the alcove for longer than necessary on previous occasions, but he doesn’t plan on being here very long this time. Cecil is barely phased by it, being a beta, simply stepping aside and allowing Dutch into the main area. The alpha steps in, surveying the half-dressed figures scattered around the room. All of them have their groins and chests covered in order to avoid any temptation, but it doesn’t go much further than a few rags hung over their shoulders and hips. A few of them turn their heads to look at Dutch then quickly look away, Dutch finding himself gently chuckling at the frightened eyes.

“Quite the collection you've gathered for yourself,” Dutch comments, to which Cecil softly snickers and locks the door behind them.

“Yes, but they haven’t all been snatched up by me. See, I got a few helpers since the last time you visited.”

“Betas?” Dutch turns to look at the man as he speaks and slowly walks past. “I assume any others would be difficult to handle.”

“Yessir, and for most strangers, I’d have to say they’re not for sale. Nevertheless, you are one of my favourite regulars, so I’ll make an exception.” Dutch adorns a small smile as his eyes skim the omegas and betas sitting around the room. This is usually the case, most alphas preferring to be with ones of their kind more than with the lower caste. A few of the betas wear slightly cleaner clothes, treading around with trays and keeping watchful eyes on the slightly younger ones, as they don’t have much of a grasp on their bodies quite yet.

Dutch shakes his head and catches Cecil’s shoulder. After standing in the vicinity for a few moments, he’s come to notice that one particular omega’s scent is catching him quite tightly by the collar and tugging him harshly back.

“Take me to the omegas, Cecil.” Dutch requests, Cecil gathering a sneer and nodding. The beta tilts his head in the direction, doddering that way and avoiding an omega’s hand grasping for his false ankle. The guilty party is kicked away before Cecil orders a beta over to lock it up. Dutch ignores it as it scrambles away, keeping his focus on Cecil.

“Fascinating creatures, really,” the beta coos. “When they ain’t so dismissive and difficult.” He leads Dutch to a door, pushing it open and allowing the smell to drift back to the alpha. Instantly, he feels himself moving faster and turning a corner. He knows his way around this place, and he doesn’t need a lantern to find the omega in question. Cecil hobbles after him, the sound of his wooden leg knocking against the grubby wooden floor beneath them.

Dutch takes the key ring from Cecil, clearing his throat as he sifts through the scratched-on labels. Unlocking the last door, he passes through the final barrier. It doesn’t take him long to see the omegas, softly griping at one another as they suffer through the effects of heat without an alpha… That is until Dutch opens the door, and the scent of alpha fills the room.

Their eyes land on him at once, but Dutch’s attention is focused on only one in particular: an omega, hardly looking like one with his build, squirming uncomfortably against a wall. His wrists are shackled a few inches above him and he has what looks like an enlarged horse’s canter bar between his teeth, big enough to keep him silent but small enough for him to be able to breathe, held in its place with a chain around the back of his head. The omega’s tired, glassy eyes look up to Dutch and the alpha can hear his soft sigh through the noise of the others, who are softly clawing at Dutch’s pant legs. They all look absolutely miserable, as they usually do, but this one seems to be worse off than all of them. He’s not even in heat, and he’s been stuffed in a room with another seven who are?

“What’s the fuss with that one?” Cecil is tossed the key ring and locks the door behind them again as Dutch speaks. The alpha gestures to the omega who dips his head and digs his heels into the floorboards as he tries to push back further against the wall. His feet are horribly torn up from the splinters in the wood, almost glowing red from how raw they are.

“Oh, that one’s awful. Not sure why I brought him back when he was such a bother in the first place.” Dutch turns his head to look at Cecil, feeling as an omega’s hand finds its way under his coat and to his covered inner thigh. Looking down, he listens as the omega speaks a foreign language in a thick accent to him. Just from the look in the poor thing’s eyes, Dutch can almost tell it’s a plea for help.

“Awful, you say? Seems to be rather calm at the moment, and for being in heat, he seems to be doin’ alright.” Dutch pushes past the others despite their complaining and begging, stepping over one of their attempts at snatching the heel of his boot. He kneels beside the omega in question and reaches out to touch his chin. The omega shudders away from his hand, but with the heat fogging his mind, he returns to it after only a moment.

“Sure, an’ you see the metal ‘round his wrists? Or the rubber ‘tween his teeth? Them’s the only reason he ain’t talkin’ the others into runnin’ or makin’ a break for it himself. We keep him in here so he don’t get to the others, not in heat.” Cecil moves to stand beside Dutch and the omega, smirking as the others shy away from him, knowing just what he can do, in their attempts at following the alpha. “Can’t say he ain’t good at it, I’ll give the bastard that. Can throw some _hard_ punches.” Dutch nods, fingers placed under the omega’s chin and gently tilting his head side to side as he’s examined. “Been here for a few months. No one’ll take him because he’s… well, he’s difficult alright.” Dutch eyes the omega, not seeing an ounce of the fight the beta so clearly describes. “Not too good lookin’ either, for an omega.”

Dutch glances over his shoulder at the other omegas, who are still whining, but are keeping a sizeable distance between them and himself. He wonders if this omega is the prime cause of this, or if Cecil really has beaten the respect into them.

“Looks just fine to me,” Dutch mutters, but Dutch can tell he heard exactly what was said by the slight movement of the omega’s eyebrows. “Filthy, but I am sure that will be an easy fix.” Dutch stands. “How much you want for him?”

“ _Him,_ Dutch? You sure you really seen the others?” Cecil looks at the several pitiful omegas and their trembling figures. Some of them clearly know what’s happening, the others are completely clueless and continue to slowly reach for Dutch’s shoulder. Cecil makes a clicking sound out of the side of his mouth, watching as they scurry away, due to having heard that sound before being punished on previous occasions. Cecil treats every one of them like dogs, training and punishing them as such, until they are taken away.

“I’ve seen them, and you know I like a challenge, Cecil.” Dutch looks Cecil in the eyes, the beta nodding. “How much do you want?”

“Five hundred,” Cecil takes a look at the omega on the floor, nodding. Dutch furrows his brows.

“I understand you want him out of your hair, Cecil, but surely, he can’t be worth that little.” Dutch knows the man, knows what he charges for his dangerous business. It has hardly ever been this low. The last time it was this low, he’d gotten an extremely frustrating beta with a smart mouth and conflicting personality to his own.

“Think of it as a… a loyalty discount.” Cecil looks back up at Dutch with a promising expression. Dutch looks at him for a moment before sighing and pulling out a large stack of cash. The man hasn’t ever lied to him ― even with the big-mouthed beta, Cecil had warned him about just that upon buying the sucker. Dutch folds a few bills out from the rest as he counts, handing them over and replacing the remaining amount back in his pocket. Cecil counts them over to be sure and lifts the key ring from his belt loop again. Sifting through the keys, his fingers catch one and shakily remove the cuffs from the omega’s wrists. Immediately, there is a sigh heard as his arms drop loosely to the floor. He doesn’t make any movements to pull the rubber muzzle from his mouth as Dutch kneels down to look him in the eyes and wave him to his feet.

The omega slowly pushes himself into a standing position with Dutch, looking up at him with a tired expression in his eyes. Dutch nods and uses a couple of fingers to signal him along. As he’d been curious to see, the omegas stay trembling in their spots as soon as this one has gotten to his feet. He makes sure the omega walks before him, staying behind a bit and placing his hand on the omega’s lower back to move him along. He watches as the omega’s pace is quickened immediately after his hand touches the skin, moving along behind.

They walk to the main room again, Cecil stepping to the side of the door and running his fingers along a few of the leather collars they’d created and collected over the years. Dutch watches as the beta’s finger skips over one and quickly places his hand on Cecil’s shoulder to stop him.

“I rather like that one you skipped,” Dutch says, glancing over his shoulder at the omega, whose eyes are low and drowsy. Cecil shrugs and nods once, tugging it from its hook and selecting a chain for it. There’s not much time between the beta attaching the metal to the leather and him fastening it around the omega’s neck, Dutch taking the chain from him and watching as the omega gently runs a couple fingers over the new addition. Cecil moves to the side to stash the money and Dutch steps close to the omega, sliding a finger where the skin and the collar meet, slipping it along the length of the collar. He leans close and whispers. “Be good and you won’t be wearing it for long.” The shiver which runs along the omega’s spine makes him smirk and slowly remove his finger from the collar.

Cecil turns to direct them to the outside again, Dutch gently urging the omega along when at first he hesitates. The alpha’s gloved hand rests softly on the omega’s lower back, and the touch guides them both along.

Before Dutch knows it, they’ve returned to the bitter cold of the bayou, and he makes his quick goodbyes as to get to the stagecoach awaiting them. Dutch leads the omega to the back, allowing him to climb in before the alpha. The door is shut behind them as soon as Dutch is settled in, facing opposite of the omega. He knocks against the roof of the box, signalling for Trelawny to start heading back. The carriage rocks a bit as they begin to move and Dutch drops the chain altogether.

“You may remove it,” Dutch nods, eyes latched onto the canter bar muzzle. Spurred into action, the omega’s hands move to unhook a chain link from a segment of the gag, and it drops to the seat beside him as soon as it’s loose. He lets out a breath before locking eyes with Dutch and stretching his jaw out for a second.

“What are you usin’ me for?” Is the first thing the omega says, making Dutch gently laugh. He shakes his head.

“Nothing too terrible, I hope, so long as you listen well. You have a name? Or should I give you one?” The omega rocks back and forth a bit as the box shifts over bumps, knees together and hands laid out on his lap.

“Arthur.” Dutch nods, glad when it’s a name he likely would’ve thought about if it came to mind. The name strangely fits hims somehow. Reaching under his seat for something, he watches as Arthur tenses in front of him, obviously fearful of what it is he’s retrieving.

“Calm down,” the alpha soothes, lifting a medium, leather case from under the seat and setting it beside the omega. “There are clothes in there. It’s the middle of winter, you’ll need them if you hope to survive without frostbite for the next few months.” Looking up at Dutch, Arthur slowly bows his head and runs his fingers over the leather. It’s a fine case, a similar quality to Dutch’s clothing, likely signifying a false sense of wealth from the alpha. Arthur hesitantly unbuckles the case and opens it, seeing a few folded outfits lying in there for him. Before any other, he takes notice of the warmest outfit lying near the top. Glancing up, he catches Dutch’s eyes again, silently asking if he needs to do this in front of Dutch. “You’ll need to be comfortable around myself anyway, Arthur.”

Dutch watches as Arthur pulls a coat and several other warm items from the case, setting them aside. The alpha reaches forward and zips the leather bag again, sliding it back underneath the seat. Arthur takes a breath and shakes his head, looking up again to stare out the window as he lowers his pants, tattered and ruined as they are.

Dutch’s eyes rake over the skin, noticing every light scar contrasting against the man’s darker thighs and lower stomach. There were likely more scars he could not see earlier with the dim light, but he doesn’t quite like to think about it. Whether they were Arthur’s fault or not, the idea of the omega being lacerated causes a faint pain in the alpha’s heart with every image. Arthur keeps his eyes away from Dutch as he undresses and dresses in the warmer clothes, careful not to let his eyes slip to the alpha and deepen the flush frustratingly warming his cheeks.

“You and I have a lot of work to do, Arthur.”


	2. A Warm Welcome

“Work?” Arthur raises an eyebrow and relaxes against the seat a bit, Dutch able to see as the drowsiness is finally winning over the omega’s anxiousness and further allowing his body to loosen in its spot. Dutch leans back in his own seat, surveying Arthur’s outfit. The coat’s collar rises far too high on that neck to be acceptable, but the way Arthur gently nuzzles into the fur lining the inside holds the alpha’s tongue from commenting and his hands from fixing it themselves. The rest of the coat, as Dutch surveys, fits Arthur rather well in the position he’s sitting, the blue draped over him strangely complementing the omega’s frame.

“Chemistry work, between the two of us. Of course, we’ll need to wait until we can truly be alone before doing anything like that…” Dutch watches as Arthur’s eyes drift up to meet his own for a few moments before dropping again. “Unless you’d like my friend here to hear you.” Dutch leans forward a bit, forearms draped over his knees to prop him up. There’s a chuckle from Dutch breaking through their silence, following Arthur’s grimace. “I’ll have Miss Grimshaw clean you up as soon as we get back. No reason to have you sitting in your own filth for longer than you already have.” Something about the name clearly sits wrong with Arthur, the omega glancing up at him for a second.

“Miss Grimshaw?” There’s a moment where Arthur opens his mouth a bit more to say something else, then shuts it and starts again. “How many others are there? Where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll like it, I’m sure. It’s finer than where you were, at the very least; I know Cecil has a habit of making the place look… occupied.” Dutch hears Arthur scoff, glancing up to see the omega roll his eyes and nod. “There’s quite a few. I’m sure you’ll get along with the most of them.”

“They all bought, too?”

“No, Arthur. They are not.” Dutch watches as Arthur wraps his arms tightly around his front and repositions, trying to get comfortable. There’s an elongated silence between them as Dutch wonders whether or not Arthur will fall asleep with an unfamiliar alpha just in front of him.

“You have a name, mister?” Arthur’s voice voids the silence, Dutch glancing out the window as he listens to the slight slur in Arthur’s weary speech.

“Dutch.” Arthur hums in response, finally finding a comfortable position and almost immediately falling asleep.

 

* * *

 

More than three hours pass before they arrive and the box comes to a stop, Dutch having been sitting with a book in his hands the whole time. On occasion, he would glance up and allow his eyes to wander across Arthur’s face, but the omega needs his rest if he is going to be capable of satisfying Dutch, in whichever way is decided.

Dutch reaches forward and places his hand on Arthur’s thigh, shaking him awake and reaching for the chain connected to the collar. Arthur rouses and blinks a few times, looking around and seeing the sun drifting through the window of the box. It’s not much sunlight, but after being half-asleep the entire time they were speaking to one another, Dutch can tell he doesn’t remember much of where he is exactly.

The door is opened and Dutch’s eyes meet Tilly’s, a small nod on Dutch’s face to signal that he’s brought another with him. Arthur finally sits up when Dutch tugs a bit on the chain, waving him along and leading him out of the carriage. The omega sticks close despite his urge to run, and that urge is clear as day on his face, from what Dutch sees.

“You really need to have me on a chain?” Arthur mutters to Dutch as Tilly shuts the carriage door behind them, the alpha nodding and allowing Arthur to glance around. It’s far from perfect, but at least they’re no longer restricted to a freezing caravan, where everyone could hear everything through the thin fabric of the tents. The house is better than it had been in the past, luckily with functioning plumbing and walls without gaping holes. Dutch watches as Arthur looks at the others tending to their separate tasks.

“Dutch!” Susan approaches them from the front door, a fast pace in the female alpha’s step. Arthur immediately steps back as she violently snaps a towel to remove the water lingering on it and swiftly lies it over her shoulder, but the collar around Arthur’s neck pulls him closer to Dutch, the chain already having been taut before he moved.

“Fine evening to you, Miss Grimshaw,” Dutch greets, looking over to Arthur who is subtly scanning her to make sure she’s not a threat. “This is Arthur. I hadn’t been planning on an addition, but as you know, surprises await me around every corner.”

“That they do, Dutch. That they do.” She reaches forward for the chain, gesturing with a couple of fingers for Dutch to hand it over. He looks at her hand for a second before passing the chain off, gaining a look of confusion from Arthur. Yes, it may seem that Dutch is the one to lead them all, but Susan Grimshaw is nothing if she’s not directly under him in their little social hierarchy. “Oh, you filthy thing.” Susan tugs Arthur closer by the chain, swiping her thumb over Arthur’s cheek to feel the grime on his face. Arthur immediately attempts to flinch away, but Susan’s hand is quick to apply a firm smack to Arthur’s face for the movement. “Now don’t be gettin’ smart with me. You oughta know just who’s in charge around here.” A lost look from Arthur is passed to Dutch, who only raises his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulders, an entertained smile on his face.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Dutch nods his head to Susan, who immediately turns and draws Arthur along with her. The omega has little to no say in the matter, simply forced to keep pace with her whether he likes it or not. She pulls him to the house and up the stairs, past several of the others Dutch had mentioned. He notices a lack of other alphas, this being expected with the sense of control Arthur gets from the pair of alphas he had already come in contact with.

“I hope you have a voice, Arthur,” she supplies as they walk, reaching the washroom and locking the door behind them. “Dutch gets rather… angry, with those who don’t. The last omega he had, name was Kieran, lost his voice one day. No one knew why.” She reaches to unhook the collar, watching as Arthur tenses and attempts to relax under her fingers. The leather restraint is unbuckled and placed on the counter beside the sink, the chain dropped loosely around it. “Dutch lost his head over it. Killed the poor boy, just because he couldn’t make a sound.”

“I do have a voice, Miss,” Arthur chokes out as she examines his face. She nods and moves to the porcelain tub sitting at the other end of the washroom. “Just… not really sure what there is to say.” Susan silently agrees, turning the taps and running her fingers under the water for a moment before plugging the drain with the stopper and dumping a generous amount of liquid soap into the water near the faucet’s output.

“Don’t worry too much. Dutch has a lot of omegas wrapped around his finger within the first couple’a days anyhow. I’m sure you’ll be no different, and you’ll be worked just as hard. If not by him, then by me.” She stands and hangs the cloth from her shoulder over the edge of the tub. “For now, we need to get you cleaned up.” Looking back at him, she crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her head a bit. “Strip.”

Immediately, Arthur is taken by surprise, putting up his hands a bit in an attempt to make Susan wait for a moment while he figures out exactly what his positives and negatives are. Finding the warm water tempting, Arthur can’t resist slowly peeling the clothes from his body. The coat comes off quickly, draped over the counter. The boots come next, along with the socks. Arthur feels a bit uncomfortable under the alpha’s gaze, but continues anyway. There would only really be a negative turnout if he were to disobey on the first day, so he undresses until he’s able to place the final piece of fabric on the pile with the others. Susan gestures for the tub and Arthur moves over to it, taking one step in and completely melting with the feeling around his calf. He doesn’t care that the dirt on the soles of his feet drags across the slick bottom of the tub, only pulling himself over the edge to fully submerge himself.

It doesn’t take long for him to clamber into the warm water, his muscles crying out in relief as the temperature soothes them. His arms lift to place themselves on the outer rim of the tub as he leans his head back, eyes shut. Susan steps closer and twists the taps to stop the flow of water, stirring her hand through the foamy blanket laid over the water’s surface.

“Been years since I’ve last had one of these,” Arthur breathes, still unwinding in the water. Susan wouldn’t be surprised if the water turned brown from the amount of dirt caked into the hair on his legs and arms, but she doesn’t mention this. It likely isn’t the omega’s fault. “Least, not a warm one. All we got was an icy shower every couple’a weeks, and a slap on the ass if we stayed under the water too long, not that we wanted to.” Susan is glad she’s able to help him relax this quickly, seeing the change in demeanour from when he’d first stepped out of the box with Dutch.

She retrieves the cloth and shallowly dips it into the water, rolling up a sleeve and reaching in for Arthur’s leg. She hooks her hand under the calf, lifting it above the water for her to scrub at. Arthur quietly apologises and opens his eyes, certain that he needs to be enjoying this much less than he is.

“So…” Arthur’s eyes drift around the washroom, catching the wall hangings and decorations. “What’s the deal with everyone? You all run a business like where I just was, or you just keepin’ a collection for safe-keepin’?” Susan scrubs at his leg, watching as the dirt comes off on the rag and dipping it back into the water to dispel it before resuming.

“No. Nothin’ like it.” She takes a breath, running her thumb over the leg after working at it for a few minutes. “Dutch calls it a family, and some days, I like to say I agree. The others… it certainly feels like we’re on opposite sides of a turf war. Especially after that other omega, Kieran.” She shakes her head, dispelling the thoughts. “What’s your impression so far?”

“Haven’t seen enough to have one.”

“Then of Dutch? Since you probably got pretty acquainted with him on the way here.” Susan pushes the leg into the water and pulls the other up, repeating as she turns the question on Arthur.

“Dutch? Well…” Arthur leans his head back and stares at the ceiling. “Seems like an alright guy, I guess. Feel thankful that he’s not the kind to pull shit on me on the way here.”

“No, but he’ll be sure to break you in within the first few days.”

“And what about with you? You and him a thing?” Susan can’t muffle a laugh bursting through her lips.

“Hardly.” She shakes her head. “What makes you think that?”

“The way he talks to you, I guess?”

“He’s that way with everyone. That is, aside from his restricted partner.” Arthur looks at her as she slides his leg back into the water and moves to scrub at one of his arms. “Molly. She’s a beta, so I’m not sure how well they’re gettin’ along. Seems like most of their talk is fighting nowadays, but who am I to question it?”

“Seems like you all got a lot of other omegas here, why don’t he take one of them?” The tone in the room shifts a bit and Susan’s voice lowers, as if the topic is a secret in itself.

“He doesn’t like others knowing, but he mated Kieran.” Arthur’s jaw drops and he swallows thickly, looking away and suddenly fearing for his life. If Dutch is capable of doing something like that to an omega after mating them, what could he possibly do to Arthur? “Regretted it. Came to me all distressed, half-crazed, poor man. I helped him, and he drunkenly swore to me,” she slips into a deeper, slurred voice. “‘I’ll never touch an omega ‘gain. Too much to handle, too much temptation,’ he says.”

“And he killed Kieran? Even after mating him? How…”

“Guess his rage got the best of him. Forced him to act before his body thought it through.” She dips Arthur’s arm before moving up to the shoulders and to the other. “He hasn’t been the same since. Won’t let Molly touch his neck, probably keeps his shirt on no matter what. He’s afraid of what she’ll say.”

“I would be too, after killin’ my mate like that?” Arthur huffs out a sigh. There’s a length of silence between them, the only sounds being the sloshing of water as Arthur sits up for Susan to scrub at his chest and face.

“Where do you come from, Arthur? Got any interesting stories you hide from everyone?” Arthur laughs at first, then slowly drifts off.

“Since we’re spillin’ already, I guess, I…” Arthur looks off at the wall, his mind a million miles from where he’s sitting right at the moment. “I say I’m ‘pure’ to get a bit of attention, I suppose, but any right-minded feller could tell from a mile away that I’m not.” Susan nods silently, moving around his back with the rag. “Made a mistake with an alpha once, had a kid. They ain’t around anymore after bein’ killed, but…” Arthur hesitates. “I’m almost glad. It took the clear reminders away, but I’m never gonna forget them, I tell you.” The silence of uncertainty passes over Arthur and he sighs. “Not sure why I’m so open about it to you already, but I feel like you’re trustworthy.”

“That’s sweet, Arthur.” Susan smiles a bit, dipping lower and lower with the cloth until she’s just above Arthur’s rear. “I’m sure you’re able to handle it from this point?” She hands him the cloth and he nods, thanking her. “I’ll be waiting outside to take you to your room.” Arthur pauses. Already, he has a room? But Dutch had said that they weren’t expecting another. The thought dissipates in his mind and he cleans himself up, scrubbing his fingers through his hair with the soap before rinsing and pulling the stopper from the drain. Tugging himself from the now-lukewarm water, he shivers when entering the colder air again.

There’s a towel hung over a rack and he uses it to dry himself off, looking in the mirror to see that while he is the thinnest he’s been in a long while, he is also the cleanest. He can see the skin rather than a layer of dirt, and his stubble, however short after being cut just a few days ago with a kitchen knife, can be differentiated from the mud usually making it difficult to tell.

Dressing himself again ― and noticing the new clothes with the same coat and boots ― he stands there and glares himself in the eyes. He needs a haircut, and badly, but he doubts he’ll be getting it. As soon as he’s done with his staring, he opens the door to see Susan speaking to another at the foot of the stairs. He waits until they are finished and for the alpha to turn around and see him, her nod of approval feeling nice in his chest.

She leads him down the hall and to the right, opening a door to a little room and gesturing for him to enter. She follows him in, shutting the door behind them and standing by the door with her arms crossed. Nodding, her eyes glance around the room.

“I had my girls fix it up as best as they could with the short notice. Layered the bed up a bit, seein’ as you’re probably not as accustomed, quite yet, to the weather as we are.” Arthur gives a soft smile in return, sitting gently against the mattress and hearing that it barely makes a sound as he does. “I do think you’ll enjoy this place ― enjoy the people here a lot more than it seems you will.”

“I’m sure.” Arthur nods, kicking off the boots and pulling the blankets up to position under. He gets himself straight in the bed and gives a small smile. “Thank you,” Susan looks up at him as if she’s caught by surprise with the words. “Your hospitality… I appreciate it.” She looks as if she’s about to tug him into her arms for a moment as a proud mother would to her child, but she stops short and simply places a hand against her chest.

“I’m glad. At least  _ someone  _ appreciates the things I do around here.” She sighs and lowers her hand, looking him in the eyes for a moment. “Dutch will probably be the one to wake you tomorrow, just as a warning.” Taking a few steps towards the door, she waves a bit and exits the room.

Arthur is painfully aware of the darkness and the lonely feeling in his chest as he lies there, but it doesn’t last long with the comforting warmth and feeling of cleanliness.


	3. A Late Awakening

When Arthur’s eyes open again, he’s greeted with the silhouette of Dutch leisurely leaning against the wall and watching out the window. The omega shifts a bit, seeing the alpha’s head turn to look at him, eyes trained on Arthur’s form under the covers.

Arthur’s eyes snap shut when he looks, his body still exceedingly tired. He doesn’t want to wake up any earlier than he needs to, despite it being late in the evening by now, and if Dutch sees his eyes, he’s pretty clearly awake. As he lies there, he hears Dutch’s footfalls slowly approach. The floor creaks but Arthur keeps his eyes shut, worried that Dutch is still in the room.

He feels the side of a thumb stroke along his cheek, the metal of Dutch’s cold rings held gently against the skin on the lower part of his jaw. Arthur resists jolting away from the touch, worried the alpha will do something stupid while he thinks the omega is asleep. Then again, the previous day, Dutch hadn’t done a thing to him while they were only a few feet away from one another.

“Good evening,” Dutch mutters, making Arthur slowly open his eyes to meet the copper ones just a few inches before his face. The alpha’s silhouette is shadowing Arthur’s face, the orange sun peeking around the man’s ear and lighting the cartilage from behind. “I’m not ignorant, Arthur. I knew you were awake.” The omega shies away a bit, not having intended to bring that thought across to Dutch.

“‘m sorry, dinn’t mean it that way.” Arthur mumbles, scooting back in the bed to evade the hand on his face. “Jus’ tired, don’ wanna get up.” Dutch is a bit more persistent than he expected, though, because the man’s palm is once more pressed against the short stubble on his face just a moment later.

“Shame,” Dutch tilts his own head up a bit to look over Arthur’s features. “We need to get the work I’ve talked about, done.” Arthur hesitates and finally moves more, not wanting to upset the alpha when he’s barely been here for a day. And he’d just come to like the few he’s met.

Arthur pushes himself up, palms pressed into the mattress, and leans against the wall, which the side of the bed is aligned with. Dutch sits himself down on the edge of the bed and keeps his eyes on Arthur.

“Yes?” Arthur shifts uncomfortably under the alpha’s gaze. He’s being stared at with such an intensity, and unsure of what to think. Dutch watches as Arthur’s arm crosses his stomach, blocking himself off. The move is already a huge tell of Arthur’s discomfort, so Dutch slowly reaches forward to diffuse the tension.

“Calm down, Arthur,” he places a hand on the arm separating them in an attempt at soothing the confusion in the omega’s eyes. His fingers gently clutch the fabric a little tighter, trying to alleviate the mood of the room just a bit. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Well, I’m not sure if you knew, but you’re a little close. Thinkin’ about that.” Dutch lets out a small sigh, shifting back to a straighter position. Clearly Arthur isn’t open to the idea, and after his experiences with Kieran, Dutch doesn’t really fancy the idea of demanding anymore. “Why are you?” Arthur speaks again after Dutch doesn’t answer for a bit, pulling his arm back a bit to loosen Dutch’s grip. He then remembers just how much he has to give for this group and leans into the touch, not wanting Dutch to think he’s disloyal from their second time meeting one another. “Not that it’s bothering me in any way,” Arthur lies through his teeth. “I’ll do whatever you want me to, so long as you don’t expect much of me.”

“I…” Dutch removes his hand and clears his throat, standing and gathering the surroundings of the room. Arthur clearly wants nothing to do with Dutch, especially in that specific way, and Dutch has already swore to himself that he will not push Arthur into anything. He completely ignores the question, a new idea popping into his head. “You seem to have a lack of books in here. Are you a reader, Arthur?” The omega looks at Dutch confusedly, furrowing his brows for a moment before readjusting his position and shaking his head.

“Not at all. Never had the chance to pick up a book.” Dutch tilts his head, wondering how someone could live such a life. “Because of that, I… well, my list of vocabulary is pretty small.”

“No time like the present, then, is there?” Dutch moves towards the door, a hand tugging it open while the other places itself firmly on the doorframe. Arthur stares at him as he does this, lost. “I’ll be back in a few moments.” And with that, Dutch disappears around the corner. Arthur has an idea of what this is, but he wonders if Dutch will force him into something after that. Such a strange thing to wake up to, he supposes, but anything could be better than waking up in that shithole in the bayou. Shifting in his spot, he tries to find a comfortable position against the wall.

Dutch returns as promised, within a few moments, and shuts the door behind him. Arthur spots a book in the man’s hand as he moves closer and gestures as if to ask permission to inhabit the space where the pillow is lying. Arthur nods.

“By all means,” Arthur says, trying to make up for his behaviour moments ago. “Make yourself at home.” Dutch grins pleasedly, removes his boots, and sits down, careful to lift the pillow and set it behind his back for a bit of extra leverage. Lying his legs out across the bed, he crosses his ankles and waves Arthur over with a couple of fingers. Arthur looks at him with a curious, yet anxious eye.

“Come here, Arthur,” he slowly grabs Arthur’s wrist, not letting up on the pressure this time. Arthur hesitates and Dutch’s demeanour quickly changes. The deep tone is powerful, sending a shiver down the omega’s spine as his alpha voice makes itself loud and clear. “Get over here, Omega.” And Arthur immediately moves to his side, slowly lying down and resting his head slightly on Dutch’s shoulder. The alpha’s demeanour returns to what it had been, a tranquil and calm feeling filling the room again. “There he is.”

Dutch takes a moment to draw his fingers through Arthur’s hair, the strands twisting and bending around and beneath his fingertips. He looks at those beautiful cerulean eyes as they gaze up at him with a slight curiosity, a small smile slipping onto Dutch’s face as he adores the sight before him. No wonder the scent had been so tantalising to his senses. His mind has always done him right in these kinds of decisions.

“Do you mind if I read? Could learn a few words here and there.” Arthur nods his head a bit, the alpha voice still stirring the butterflies in his stomach. There’s a warmth in his chest he can’t quite rid himself of, and he has a feeling that Dutch is the one causing it.

“Read away,” Arthur looks down at the book as the alpha opens it to a bookmark, sliding it out and setting it to his other side. The omega can only slightly see the words in his position, but he’s more focused on Dutch as his Adam’s apple bobs when he clears his throat, and his mustache moving in just the perfect of ways with his lips as he speaks. And those lips, god those lips. Maybe it’s just because Dutch is an alpha, but Arthur can barely keep himself from drooling. Is it his heat? God, it can’t be his heat. Anything but that, starting now, in this position?

Arthur’s eyes slide down to the book, intently listening to the words said and picturing them on those lips. Imagining a tongue passing over them as Dutch takes a moment’s pause, only to disappear again and leave the pink skin glossy where it had touched. The mere thought makes Arthur let out a little purr, the sound nearly silent, but it stops nearly as quickly as it starts when Dutch’s words suddenly falter. They take a few beats to finally come back into play, Dutch’s voice ringing in Arthur’s ears a bit more this time.

So when he watches Dutch’s hand slowly slide from the page and along the man’s own lap, then under Arthur’s coat and to his hips, he doesn’t react as he normally would, merely staying still and contemplating the act of pushing into the touch. Would it come across as desperate?

The alpha keeps reading, the hand so gently dragging the tips of his fingers along the pant leg. Dutch finds it surprising when Arthur doesn’t move, simply lying there without a change of self or attitude, and it pleases him. Perhaps all he needed to do was raise his voice a bit, and now Arthur was like clay between his fingers. It only takes a bit for it to be kneaded enough to mold.

Dutch’s fingers finally reach the back of Arthur’s thigh, dragging along the fabric until he places his entire palm against the muscle in Arthur’s toned ass and kneads the area. This is the point at which Arthur can’t help but press into the touch, a little breath passing through his lips. Never has he felt this way before, even with his previous sexual experiences. Maybe it’s simply caused by Dutch being a powerful, respectable alpha, but his heart is pounding in his chest and he can feel the warmth around it swelling.

“You like that?” Dutch’s voice breaks through the silence Arthur hadn’t even noticed was surrounding them. The alpha pushes against the skin with more pressure, grasping more of the omega’s muscles underneath the skin and working his fingers through it. Arthur can’t speak without first clearing his throat, so he makes the effort to and settles on a simple nod anyway. “So touch-starved; not a good life to live, especially as an omega.” Arthur shakes his head in response, unable to speak. Swallowing his pride and glancing back up at Dutch, his breath silently hitches. The alpha’s bottom lip is so perfectly caught between those teeth, and he looks amazing up there, a look of hunger in his eyes.

The book is set aside and Arthur tenses a bit, worried about what exactly is to come from this. He relaxes again when Dutch’s hands return to his hips, the strong fingers on the man’s hand grabbing at his ass again. This time, Dutch’s other hand assists in lifting Arthur sliding him to lie back against Dutch’s chest, a leg on either side of Dutch’s, remaining crossed at the ankles. Arthur is curious, but he feels a sense of worry and fear. He doesn’t think he’s ready for this after what happened last time, but he doesn’t make his worries known and remains quiet as Dutch moves him.

The alpha’s hands return to him, sliding up along his hips and to his sides, then eventually to his underarms. The omega gets the gist of what Dutch is silently implying and sits up, ditching the coat and lying back down. The movement draws a little chuckle from Dutch, entertained by how quickly the omega can be persuaded with a little bit of contact. When Arthur is settled in again, Dutch’s hands hold themselves just below Arthur’s pelvis, and he presses them down, grinding up into the omega and letting out a soft groan.

“I want to hear you. Do not keep your voice from me, omega.” There’s the alpha voice again, supposedly mending Arthur’s legs into a wobbly shadow of what they usually are. “Show me that you can sing.” Arthur’s head tilts back against Dutch’s shoulder, a noisy pant breaking through his lips. Maybe he is ready for this ― his body clearly is, at the very least.

Dutch presses his hips into Arthur’s again, circling around and pushing Arthur’s in an opposite direction. He glances down to see Arthur’s neck, immediately drawn to it. Arthur feels those lips against his neck and lets out a louder breath, a lilt of a groan hiding within the sound somewhere. Dutch’s teeth drag along the skin there, gently nibbling and sucking. Arthur is now completely different from his strong persona, gripping Dutch’s shirt with his left hand and at the blankets with his right. The sensitivity of his neck is ridiculous, but it has always been that way.

Dutch’s hands make quick work of Arthur’s button-up after bucking into Arthur’s hips quite a few times. He slides his hands easily along the midseam, sliding the buttons easily out of their holds and tugging the shirt open when all of them are separate. The cold rings are immediately what Arthur feels, abs tensing when he feels them against his stomach. Dutch quietly apologises, whispering in Arthur’s ear with that lusty, velvet, and perfect voice of his. Arthur shakes his head as to say it was a mistake, but no words come through the lips parted by heavy breaths.

Arthur is quickly decompressing in Dutch’s hands, easier than he thought he ever would. But Dutch’s hands are captivating, almost toxic, with the way they move. Taking their time to linger over Arthur’s nipples, hard and a fiery red as the shivers are constantly sent up his spine. Dutch lifts his hand to his own mouth and licks at the pads of his forefinger and thumb, returning to slowly twist the bud around. Arthur bends with it, back lifting from Dutch’s chest as the sensation passes directly through him and causes him to arch.

This isn’t enough for Dutch, clearly, as he continues sucking at Arthur’s neck, the other hand easily sliding down to Arthur’s waistband. A few of his fingers slip under, slowly being pulled back out as the sensation along Arthur’s pelvis makes him finally let out a breathy moan. Dutch grins, whispering words of admiration and praise with a hot breath against Arthur’s neck. The hand closest to Arthur’s upper body slowly works Arthur’s arm out of the sleeve of the shirt, followed by the other. The fabric is tossed away and Dutch grabs Arthur’s bicep.

“Arms around my head.” Arthur is confused at first, lifting them and hooking his fingers together in a loop around the back of Dutch’s neck. “Good boy,” Dutch smirks. “Keep them there.”

“Huh?”

“Keep them there until I say you can drop them.” Dutch demands, lowering his arms to undo Arthur’s belt.

“But―”

“ _ Arthur. _ ” His name in that voice, in that tone, makes him groan out loud. Something about being dominated, being used like this, is absolutely wonderful.

“Y-yes, sir.” Arthur manages, the name catching Dutch by surprise. He loves the way it rolls of of Arthur’s tongue like that, foggy and barely able to keep it together. Watching Arthur unravel like this is absolutely worth all of his restraint the day before. If only he had known what that word, sliding so elegantly out of Arthur’s mouth, would do.

Dutch’s hands tug Arthur’s belt off and forget about it as soon as the buckle hits the floor, fingers easily undoing the button on Arthur’s pants and lowering them to his lower thighs. Immediately, Dutch’s palm moves to press against the obvious erection, Arthur crying out. A hand lowers to press Dutch’s hand down harder, but the alpha completely removes all contact when he feels that hand remove itself from around his neck.

“S-sorry!” Arthur forces while returning the hand and linking the fingers with the other, hoping Dutch won’t punish him physically while he’s so worked up already. Dutch shakes his head and sighs, hands off to the side as Arthur bucks into the air and grinds back down against Dutch.

“What did I say?” Dutch doesn’t sound angry, simply a bit disappointed in how Arthur already can’t listen.

“Keep them there…” Arthur sounds like a dejected child.

“Until?”

“Until you say I can drop them.”

“Good. Now this time, you listen. Otherwise, we’ll have ourselves a problem.” Arthur quickly nods and begs through his teeth, the only sound being air. The omega kicks at his pants, somehow able to get them off and bend his legs, opening them wide as Dutch’s hands finally return to touching him. A happy sigh passes through Arthur’s lips, the humility of the situation not quite getting to him yet.

The alpha hooks his thumbs under the waistband, tugging it down. Arthur does the rest of the work, wiggling out of them and steadily growing in volume with his pleas.

“Please what, Arthur? Use your words.” Arthur feels like a young child being condescended by Dutch, but somehow, he enjoys it a hell of a lot more than he does dislike it.

“Touch―” Arthur’s voice breaks when Dutch’s hand finally finds its way around Arthur’s length, slowly stroking along the shaft and enjoying as Arthur moves on top of him. He feels Arthur’s hands come moderately loose again, his own completely separating from the skin for a moment. The tension behind his neck returns and his own hand slowly does the same. “F-faster.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mm?”

“What was that, boy?”

“Faster!” Arthur exclaims, arching again and letting out a powerful whine when Dutch shakes his head and removes his hand once again.

“I think I need to teach you your place, Arthur.”

“H-how―”

Dutch watches as Arthur writhes, the alpha’s hand quickening in its movements. The omega cries out at first, babbling and moaning in pleasure as it continues, until his eyebrows raise and his jaw falls slack, Dutch stopping his hand completely and flipping it over, tightening his fingers around the base. A shiver runs through Arthur, the orgasm hitting him but fading off as he doesn’t fully reach that heavenly feeling quite yet.

“D-Dutch!” Arthur cries in a mixture of pain and an overwhelming amount of pleasure. The alpha waits for Arthur to stop trembling and bucking into his hand, removing his fingers to rotate it again and returning to a slow pace, dragging his fingers along the length and allowing Arthur to be worked back into it. He’s over-stimulated, obvious with his stuttering breath, but it doesn’t sound like he’s complaining too much after a few slow strokes.

Arthur is able to turn his head enough to see Dutch’s lips just beside his, wanting to lean over and kiss them. Seal this bond they haven’t even created, yet Arthur feels in his heart of hearts. The movement is in the back of his mind, his eyes locked on Dutch’s lips as they slowly press closer and closer to each other, his mustache curving so perfectly with it. He has to refrain from doing it, though, worried Dutch will see it as a step too far and toss Arthur out again. At least then he could run, but he’d likely be naked and extremely horny ― any other alpha within a mile would be able to track him down and take him, just like that.

Turning his head away again to reduce the temptation, he readjusts his fingers, feeling as they start to slip apart due to sweat building up. The heat in the room is ridiculous, especially considering the weather outside. Grinding down against Dutch, Arthur can feel the erection poking through those pants. It’s likely visible as well, from how hard the man feels, but he only brushes his ass against it as Dutch’s hand slowly works at his second orgasm.

Dutch lets out a muffled groan, head touching the wall as it tips back with his pleasure.

“Quit that,” he growls, though it is far from being as threatening as the other words had. Arthur’s hips falter for a moment as he wonders what Dutch will do if he doesn’t. Likely will just hold back another release, so he presses down again, harder this time. Dutch’s voice, is strained to be quiet. His hips move to meet Arthur’s for a countered pressure, and Arthur grins a bit as Dutch’s hips slowly work themselves into a pattern, the hand moving at a similar pace. Arthur almost wonders if Dutch is about to release when the sensation creeps up on him again, worried the alpha will hold him back once more. He pants, grinding his hips back against Dutch’s as that hand quickens and moves in random directions, working Arthur open faster than he thought it would.

“Duh―” Arthur starts, moaning again when his orgasm hits him a second time. “Dutch!” He cries out, feeling Dutch’s hips stop in their motion immediately after Arthur’s reached his climax for the second time. Only now, he’s actually finished for a while.

At first, Arthur is put-off by Dutch removing him so simply and lying him down on the bed again, wondering where he’s going after finishing something that quickly, and without satisfying himself. Is the alpha really leaving after that? Had he not been good enough?

“Alpha?” Dutch is in the motion of standing from the bed when Arthur says this, catching him off-guard. The voice sounds soft; like another omega, any but Arthur, would. He turns to look at the omega, who is lying there with the saddest look of confusion on his face. Dutch would say it broke his heart, but he can’t afford to have a heart when emotions are at play, and Molly will be returning from the nearest town at any time. “Where are you goin’?”

“To bed, Arthur,” he lies. “It’s getting late.” Dutch picks up the book from the side of the bed, along with the multiple clothing items on the floor. Setting all but the book back on the bed, he moves to a dresser and pulls out a rag. He leaves the room for a moment to wet the cloth. Upon returning to the bedside, Arthur is clearly trying to gesture to something, leaving a huge space in the middle of the mattress where Dutch had been lying. Dutch pretends as if he doesn’t notice, handing the cloth to Arthur and turning to head for the door.

“Oh,” Arthur’s heart, which he’d assumed had long since been stolen, feels as if it’s broken in two. “Okay.” The instincts, even if Arthur hadn’t been given what his body really wanted, still call for them to sleep with each other. Cling to one another, the alpha protecting him from harm after doing something so intimate, but Dutch clearly doesn’t feel the same. He watches as Dutch’s darkened silhouette approaches the doorway and pauses there, and he can almost see a look of regret on the man’s eyes as soon as the door is mostly shut behind him.

“Sleep well,” Arthur calls after him, attempting to say something to get the alpha back. He wants to kiss those lips and be held by those arms to an immeasurable degree.

As he lies there in the uncomfortable silence, he almost can’t bring himself to clean up. He wonders if Dutch will come back and take care of him like Arthur’s instincts say he will; like he’d always wished an alpha would. Dragging the cloth across his stomach, he stares directly at the darkening ceiling and keeps himself from feeling too much about it. If anyone were to hear him, even a sniffle, he’d be made a fool within a heartbeat. It wouldn’t go without reason, he supposes. There’s enough to make fun of as it is.

Tossing the cloth, he doesn’t care where it lands. Through the dark, he searches the blankets for the pile of clothes, slowly pulling them on one by one, excluding the coat. He’s unable to bring himself to buttoning the shirt, rolling onto his side and staring in the direction Dutch had just disappeared to. Luckily, rolling in that direction, he picks up on the alpha’s scent, so eloquently stuck to the sheets. He curls up to it, tugging the blankets up to his shoulders.

And even after all of that, Arthur can’t bring himself to respect the man any less.


	4. An Early Morning

It’s late at night, a couple hours later, when Arthur is jolted from his sleep, the sound of something roughly hitting the other side of the wall quickly sending his body into a panic. He lies there and tries to get a hold on his breathing as the once thunderous noise starts to get quieter and sound more like something being dragged upwards a little and stops again. Arthur wonders if he should press his ear to the wall before going to investigate, but simply pulls himself from the blankets and moves towards the door.

The only things covering his feet are socks, catching on the untreated wood every few steps. He pulls his door open, glancing around the hall for anyone. The only signs of life are the dim light of a candle wick under a couple doors, one from a door on the opposite side of the hall and the other from the door just beside his own.

Swallowing a fear-produced temptation to run back to his room and stay there until morning, he moves onward. The rooms sound silent, particularly the one he’s approaching, and as he’s about to knock on the door to request the person be quiet, he hears a voice inside. Finally pressing his ear to the door, he focuses on whose voice it may be.

“There we go,” Dutch’s voice is the first thing he hears, and immediately his muscles tense. He’s still frustrated with the alpha from earlier, but it sounds like now is not the time to bring up his exasperation quite yet. “Just like that.” Arthur’s mind jumps to conclusions and he feels his throat positioning to let out a growl at the idea of Dutch with someone else so soon after being with Arthur. If he’d needed to be relieved, surely he could’ve simply asked, and Arthur would gladly fulfill those wishes. It seems at this point, that was not on Dutch’s mind.

Then, he hears the breathless voice of someone else moaning out, and he actually does let out a quiet growl, low and warning despite being unheard by the two in the room. She sounds blissful, lost in Dutch’s body just as Arthur had been hours ago. She chokes over her breath and lets out another sound, Arthur slowly becoming less and less angry, being replaced by the sad notion of none of this being fair. Supposedly, this is Molly, Dutch’s “restricted partner” as Susan had put it, but Arthur can’t feel a drop of acceptance as she is so clearly being fucked against the wall, which place he should’ve taken hours ago. Surely an omega would be a better lay than a beta, right? Was it just Arthur? Was he not loud enough, or pretty enough for him to take?

Arthur physically gives up, careful not to make a sound as he sits with his back against the door and continues listening. This is wrong, and he knows that, but he can’t will himself to leave. He wants to hear what he’d missed out on, and what he’s up against. Surely, Dutch and Molly have known each other for longer; know each others’ bodies better, but Arthur still feels like he could’ve brought Dutch to an intensely euphoric climax, one that would rival any Molly could supply to him.

He hears as Dutch lets out sensual groans, ones that send shivers down Arthur’s spine and force his thighs together as he denies himself anything at all. He’s not going to get off to Dutch fucking someone else. That’s horrible, even if Arthur’s the only one who knows.

Molly’s voice breaks and Dutch lets out a hiss of pain, likely from Molly’s nails digging into his back. He listens, eyes shut tightly as he tries to picture them. It’s less of Molly, his mind’s eye replacing her with himself, but the image of Dutch holding him in that position is mouthwatering when he stops hearing Molly’s accursed moans.

The sound of feet hitting the ground, followed by the less-graceful one of knees doing the same, makes Arthur wonder what exactly is happening. With the sounds Dutch was making, he wonders if Dutch is repositioning them to finish himself off. He hears Molly panting, mouth clearly open wide, and Dutch letting out the smoothest sounds he’s ever heard an alpha make. The sounds, however much Arthur is denying himself the pleasure of listening to it, cause Arthur’s lips to purse and his eyes to shut tighter. He won’t touch. He can’t.

Dutch’s voice creates a carnal moan, the silkiest sound Arthur’s ever heard, and he hears Dutch’s breath catching in his chest a few times. Arthur’s legs are shaking at this point, instincts still wanting the alpha near him, and that deep voice not doing anything in his favour, either. He wants nothing more than to be the one drawing those sounds out of Dutch, to be the one capable of making them even more pleasurable to the alpha.

“Good girl,” Dutch whispers, and Arthur can feel a lump in his throat forming, somehow putting a cork in his tears, as he remembers Dutch saying that to him. The things it did when he said it. “Come here.” There’s a sound of shuffling, skin against wooden floorboards, and he can hear a kiss shared between the two of them. It’s clearly small, but with Arthur’s focus aimed at the two of them, he hears almost every little breath.

“I love you,” Molly mutters, a smile playing coy in her thick accent. Clearly someone has gotten what they’d wanted. There’s barely a moment between when Molly speaks and when Dutch does.

“I love you, too.” These words shatter Arthur, and he swallows the growing lump in his throat. Pushing himself up from the spot, he looks to see the light under the door opposite his own, except it’s heavily blurred this time. This is the only obvious signal of the tears gathering at first, then he feels the track of one as it slides down his cheek. He makes sure to be back in his room by this point, shutting and locking the door to avoid anyone, specifically Dutch, walking into his room in the morning. Despite the yearning for Dutch to be close, there is an obvious manipulation going on, and Molly likely doesn’t know about him yet. About what happened the night before. Dutch being the bastard he is, probably told her that he’d been waiting for her and got all hot and bothered for her, when in reality, Arthur had done everything.

Arthur punches the mattress, not sure about where he stands with the alpha anymore. Does he really mean that little? After the compliment he’d gained during the first few minutes of them meeting? After Dutch lying down to assist him with something he thought he would never improve upon? After Arthur completely submitted to him, despite the omega’s instincts warning him against it… was Dutch only trying to get Arthur’s trust, only to smash it?

Lying back down in bed, Arthur tugs the blankets up to his shoulders and swallows a sob. After years of wondering if he’d been enough; if he’ll ever be enough, an alpha comes waltzing into his life and compliments him. Takes him home and makes sure he has a nice bath, a warm bed to sleep in, builds up the trust Arthur hadn’t allowed anyone to have in years, and then stomps on it like it’s worth nothing.

Arthur is worth nothing.

 

* * *

 

The mid-morning sunshine on Arthur’s face is the first thing to wake him up, eyes shut tighter as soon as he sees the red tint of his eyelids. He rolls over and opens them, feeling already how puffy they are from the night before.

That’s right, he’d forgotten for a full few seconds.

He feels a scowl pull onto his face as soon as he remembers, sitting up and pushing his legs off the side of the bed. It takes him a few moments to actually stretch and pull on the boots, followed by the coat as soon as he stands. His thoughts are simple, and he makes sure that they stay that way as he looks around the room. It seems to have been a spare room, obviously by the vacancy of it, but there are a few belongings lying about which seem to have been someone’s at some point or another. They look too random to be simple decorations.

Shuffling towards the dresser, he notices a silk cloth nicely draped over something and lifts it. The cloth seems to be pretty finely made, perhaps a gift at one point or another.

The item under the cloth is a journal. It seems to be a simple thing, and with a swipe of his fingers over the cover of it, Arthur believes it to feel like cheap leather. It’s in pretty good condition, hardly any wearing over the corners of it, and Arthur slowly unhooks the strap, opening it to the first page. The initials “K.D.” are written in pen there, and the paper seems to have taken to the ink nicely. He flips through a few more pages and finds no other writing, the initials the only thing signifying the journal as having been owned. Arthur looks at it, turns it around in his hand a few times, and fastens the strap again, setting it back down on the dresser. He’ll return to it if he can find a way of carrying it.

Moving on, he sees a small crate with the lid splintered and broken off. It looks as if it were breached in a hurry whenever it was, but Arthur doesn’t pay much attention to that as he pulls the lid open. Inside are several pistols and revolvers, along with a padding of several satchels at the bottom. He sets the guns aside, lifting the three side bags from the create.

Of course when he sets them down on the bed, he’s almost launched out of his skin from a loud thud coming from downstairs. At first, he is certain that he’ll stay in his room a bit longer, but then he hears Susan’s voice, loud and clear.

“Oh! You girls are just helpless!” Susan shouts, spurring Arthur into action. He heads for the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. He’s quick to move towards the top of the stairs, seeing a heavy-looking desk sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Susan is standing there at the bottom beside another woman, and there’s one closer to him on the other side of the desk, looking to be nervously fiddling with her hands. Already from her demeanour, Arthur can tell that she’s an omega, and the woman at the bottom of the stairs glaring at Susan must be another beta.

“Woulda helped if you helped pick it up, ya ol’ crone.” The beta crosses her arms, talking smack like it’s a daily thing.

“Well,  _ Karen, _ I don’t suppose you lift much other than that bottle to your lips anymore!” Karen shakes her head and glares at Susan, waving her hand at the alpha to brush her off. “As for you, Tilly, I―” Susan smiles and steps up to the edge of the desk again. “Arthur! Well I’ll be damned. I thought you’d off and died after not comin’ down yesterday.” Arthur is about to reply before Susan speaks over him and waves Tilly away. “Go do somethin’ productive, Tilly. I ain’t got no need for slackers ― not that sayin’ that stopped you anyways.” The omega in front of Arthur sighs and turns away, making brief eye-contact with him before walking off to another room. “Arthur, come on down here and help me with this.” Arthur feels as if he has no choice, stepping down the six or seven stairs and crouching to pick it up.

As they move it up the stairs, Susan gestures with her eyes to a room. It’s the room across the hall from his own, the one he’d seen the light from last night.

“He’s been beggin’ us all for a desk. It’s been about two months now?”

“Who?” Arthur’s voice is a bit more strained, putting more work into it than Susan, who could clearly do this herself if it weren’t heavy on both sides.

“Micah. I’m sure if you haven’t already seen him or heard him, you’ll know straight away.”

“Great.” Arthur sarcastically replies, setting it down where Susan directs him to. He stands and arches his back forwards to reverse the pain for keeping it the other way for a long while. Susan stands and claps her hands across one another, likely less as a way of brushing off the dirt and more of a way of celebrating the work. They move back out of the room, Susan shutting the door behind them.

“Glad I caught you when I did, those girls are pathetic when it comes to physical work around here. Sure, they’ll wash the tables and clean up the dishes, but god forbid they help in any other way.” Arthur laughs a little, nodding. She moves closer and claps her hand down on Arthur’s shoulder. “Dutch caught you already this mornin’? Told me he needed to talk to you.”

“Oh, nah,” Arthur shakes his head, lowering his gaze. He doesn’t want to speak to the man at all, frankly. Even if it is about what happened ― or rather, didn’t happen. If he speaks to Dutch, he wants an apology before anything else. “Just crawled outta bed.”

“You look like it,” Susan grins and ruffles Arthur’s bedhead hair. “Well, I’ve got a few more things to do before I can stand around and chat for too long, so go find him if you get a chance, got it?” Arthur smiles a bit and nods as she moves back to the stairs, descending them and leaving him alone on the top floor again. He has half a mind to go snooping around in Dutch’s room after everything, but the way the man carries himself, it’s likely that he doesn’t leave things lying around, at least things which shouldn’t be found by anyone else.

Arthur returns to the stairs, hearing the bustle of life from the kitchen and a few other rooms. He doesn’t hear the sound of Dutch’s voice, though, and he’s glad for that fact. Even if he were to assert himself in front of the alpha, that voice would break down all of his walls before he’d be able to utter another demand.

Wandering out of the house, he curses himself a bit for leaving the gloves in his room. He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks around, spotting a few others at the fire and treading over towards the inviting warmth.

“Oh, well if it ain’t Dutch’s new toy.” Already, Arthur regrets it, but he’s not backing down from a little bit of teasing. The omega sits himself down on the ground, seeing the other seats are taken, and removes his hands from his pockets to warm near the fire. “Where’s your collar, mutt?”

“Micah, be nice.” Another one of the men around the fire speaks up. He looks to be able to hold his ground, but not quite enough to be an alpha. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“Damn right it was,” Micah laughs to himself, the others not commenting any further, as the only thing achieved would be stirring the boiling pot. “Micah Bell, pleased to meetcha.” No hand is pushed towards Arthur, and he’s almost glad, not wanting to touch this low life. “I assume you’ve already heard of me, but in the case you haven’t: second in command under the two strongest alphas I’ve come in contact with.”

“Inn’t that Hosea?” Another pipes up, followed by a third.

“Sure it is. He’s just bein’ a kiss-ass  _ and _ a liar. Two birds with one stone, Micah? That’s the most you’ve killed in your whole life.” Micah scowls and glares at the two of them, namely the one having spoke last.

“Shut up, Fatty. Most you ever done for us is put an animal over the fire and drop it in a bowl. I doubt you ever even held a gun.” Arthur can’t help the grimace on his face, looking down at the ground as they all argue. It’s not like he’s never been in this kind of situation, but with a man whose only purpose seems to be pissing others off, Arthur has to grit his teeth as to not clock the guy in the face now. “Now. If all ‘o you would shut your big mouths while I talk to our newest addition.” No one speaks up, simply glaring at Micah as he speaks. Seems like this is a commonality. “His dick been in your ass yet?” Arthur shakes his head, keeping his face neutral as he raises his gaze and looks at Micah.

“No, but from the sounds of it, I don’t think you could stay the same. Way you talk, there’s gotta be somethin’ up there. Or are you just sittin’ on that log wrong, and got a stick up your ass?” A few of the others quietly snicker, watching as the tips of Micah’s ears turn a brighter red, having been already flushed from the cold. The man stands and tries to intimidate Arthur, but in reality, the omega isn’t affected by it in the slightest.

“You think you got a quick mouth, Pillow Biter?”

“I told you, he ain’t done anythin’ to me yet.” Micah marches around the fire and tugs on Arthur’s coat, bringing him to his feet.

“If he hasn’t, then I’ll beat him to it.” Micah threatens, and Arthur keeps a neutral expression as the beta tugs him along.

“Micah,” a voice is heard off to the side and Arthur doesn’t recognise it, so he looks to see whom it may be. “What might you be doing?”

“Just goin’ to teach him a lesson fer talkin’ shit, Hosea. You know I hate that.”

“And hypocrisy becomes you, Mr. Bell. Let him go.” Micah snarls at Arthur and forcefully shoves him back, standing there, fuming. “Get,” Hosea commands, watching as the man stamps off towards the fire again, grumbling angrily. Hosea places his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and looks him in the eyes, silently checking for any injuries. “On behalf of him, I apologise. He… he’s usually like this.”

“Charming.”

“Very,” Hosea nods, walking in one direction in a way which Arthur simultaneously follows. “How are you holding up? The change of scenery got you flustered yet?”

“Not quite. Not sure I’ve been here long enough for that to happen.”

“And yet, I see, you’ve been here long enough to kindly introduce yourself to a few of the others.”

“How many are there?”

“We lost count at about twenty, and there’s hardly a time when everyone is gathered in one place for long enough… There’s not many more than twenty. Twenty-three? Four, now that you’re here?”

“Seems like a lot of mouths to feed.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Hosea laughs, Arthur laughing a bit with him as they turn a corner into the house again. Hosea pushes open the doors and Arthur’s smile immediately falls, seeing Dutch there. Only this time, he’s got Molly crossed over his lap, filling Arthur’s chest with a fire of anger he had never believed was capable of existing inside of him.

“You look pleased to see me, Arthur.”


	5. An Untimely Meeting

“Yeah, you too.” Arthur can’t stop the voice inside of his head shouting to demand an apology. Make a fool of Dutch right in front of Molly, who likely doesn’t know of what happened, what  _ would’ve _ happened the night before, when Dutch’s voice was stolen away from him. He wants to growl at the alpha, yell and accuse Dutch. But he doesn’t. The words he’d briefly planned to say disappear from his mind, and he can’t bring himself to speak like that to Dutch. It’s something about the man’s elegance, the way he can twist words and turn Arthur’s mind on its head. There are reasons for Arthur’s infatuation with the man and how he can light a fire in Arthur’s chest without saying much more than a few words. These are also very similar to the reasons Arthur wants nothing to do with him. He doesn’t want to be talked into something without any knowledge of it, simply because Dutch uses pretty words and Arthur is captivated by the man.

It’s ridiculously unfair.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Dutch begins, pointing to another chair in the room.

“I heard.” Dutch can’t tell what’s going on in Arthur’s mind, but he’s sure he’ll be able to talk Arthur off of this high horse he’s suddenly saddled himself on.

“Arthur.” Dutch’s voice is stern, and Arthur feels that warmth in his chest again, but he doesn’t move as Dutch points to the chair again. It’s less a conscious stillness, and more a few moments where he simply cannot move his appendages due to the thoughts rushing through his mind. At least with this distance and with Molly on his lap, Dutch can’t use his hands to melt Arthur like he had; can’t work his muscles loose and relax his body.

“I think I’m okay standing.” At least if he can’t demand an apology, he’ll deny Dutch’s requests until he can’t. Dutch watches Hosea idly leave the room, the three of them left alone as Dutch lowers his head and clears his throat again, then lifting it to look back up at Arthur.

“I wanted to ask if you’d like to go into the city with the two of us.” Dutch looks at Molly for a moment, arms looping themselves around her waist as her arms lie around his neck. “Get you a proper shave, a haircut? I’m sure it’s getting to be a little long for much comfort.” Arthur hears the word “us” and is quickly put-off by the idea. He doesn’t want to parade around with a couple all day. Especially when one of them is silently glaring at him from the other’s lap. So his mind conjures up a lie.

“It’s just fine. I’m used to having it this long,” Arthur lies. “You two can enjoy your day out together.” Dutch shakes his head and provides a little smile, wanting Arthur to join them. Experience what the outside world has become. Unfortunately, the city he is referencing is none other than Saint Denis, the most machine-updated place in the state of Lemoyne, but Molly has been asking to go, and he feels as if he needs to make it up to her. Arthur is simply a tagalong in his mind.

“Then we’ll see a show?” Arthur’s mind lurches to a stop again, theorising on the possible use of an alibi.

“That’s alright, I saw one recently.” Dutch raises an eyebrow, the subtle movement making Arthur’s eyes move away from the alpha’s.

“Come now, Arthur, now I know you’re lying. The city can’t be that bad, can it?” Arthur wants to snap back at him, tell him that  _ yes, _ it can be that bad. Especially when he’s tailing behind Dutch and his lover, who seem to be rather close, contrary to what Susan had said before. What if Dutch used the chain to drag him around by that collar like a dog? That would only prove Micah’s point. He’s nothing but a pet to Dutch, that much is pretty clear at this point. “Maybe you can get an outfit for yourself? Something more of your style?” Arthur’s eyes are locked on the floor, unsure.

“I guess not…” Dutch sees the uncertain look on Arthur’s face, leaning over to whisper into Molly’s ear. He requests a few minutes alone, asking her if she could kindly fetch them a few plates of the breakfast stew Pearson and Sadie had likely made for the gang. She nods after a moment, Arthur looking up to see her taking a long, drawn out kiss from him before leaving and shutting the door behind her. Dutch stands from the chair, moving closer to Arthur. Without a second thought, the omega steps back until he hits the wall, worried Dutch will do something physical to convince Arthur. And that he does.

Dutch pins him there, a hand finding one of Arthur’s wrists and pressing it against the wall with the rest of the omega’s body.

“You really should come with us, Arthur,” Dutch whispers, before moving forward and lifting Arthur’s chin as soon as his lips come in contact with Arthur’s neck. The omega tenses and relaxes under the touch, remembering the kind of things the exact actions had done to him and Dutch the night before. Maybe in their few minutes of privacy, Arthur’s instincts can be fulfilled, and he can draw a sensual climax out of the alpha. The omega pitifully nods, head still tilted back against the wall as he shuts his eyes. “I think you’d enjoy it. The cool breeze on your face,” Dutch’s teeth skim over Arthur’s Adam’s apple.

“Y-yes,” Arthur agrees, swallowing thickly and letting out soft breaths. His lips curl into a smile as he ruts his hips up against Dutch’s. The alpha growls lowly, the other hand flying to Arthur’s hip and harshly shoving it back against the wall. The omega lets out a quiet sound, trying to buck against the hand. If he can just get Dutch turned on… “Please, Alpha.”

“Please what, Arthur?”

“I n-need—”

“You don’t  _ need _ . You’re being selfish, Arthur.” The omega whines quietly, not understanding as Dutch talks against his skin and drags his tongue over the space he’s gently biting at. “So far, all you’ve been is ‘take, take, take’. I’ve had enough already.” Arthur still doesn’t understand. He would’ve helped Dutch if he stayed, lied down next to Arthur when he’d so obviously left a spot for him. Is Arthur coming across differently to Dutch than he is in his mind?

“D-Dutch…” Arthur tries to speak and uphold what he believes to be true, tilting his head to the other side and letting out a lustful moan. He can feel just a brush of Dutch’s hips against his own, but that’s all he gets. All he’ll ever get, as it seems.

“You’ll come with us to Saint Denis, and when we get back, you can have it. Understood?” The deal is enough to put Arthur on-end. He nods quickly, desperate and exceedingly aroused. He feels the pressure against his hips lessen, grinding up towards Dutch again in an anguished second attempt. This time, he’s able to actually push against something. His leg raises to hook around Dutch’s thigh, pulling them closer and grinding the both of them together. “So you’ll be joining us, Arthur?” The omega moans out as he rubs a bit harder against Dutch.

“Y-yes, yes I will, sir.” Dutch suddenly pushes himself several feet back, Arthur being flustered against the wall. The omega’s leg falls and he whimpers, watching as Dutch fixes his vest and smooths a hand over his hair.

“I’m glad we could come to a consensus.” Arthur trails after him a few steps, still aroused and  incredibly needy. The alpha sends a glare in his direction and the omega hears Molly’s shoes echoing against the wooden floor again. Arthur’s hands fly to his coat in an attempt to hide everything, not thinking about Dutch’s sake, only his own. He doesn’t want to be laughed at for falling victim to an alpha’s words so quickly. He fastens a few of the buttons before he hears Molly enter, standing straight again and trying not to let the thought of Dutch’s hips against his own interfere with his posture.

“Here’s the stew,” she sets a plate down for Arthur, sliding it to him across the desk. He catches it before it falls off, but not by much. He quietly thanks her and looks to Dutch, unable to keep his eyes off of the alpha. “So,” she throws an arm over Dutch’s shoulder, grinning. “Is he coming, or are we gonna go alone and have some  _ real _ fun?” The omega can almost tell that the words she uses are pointed directly at him. Perhaps he’s been wrong, and she knows all about what happened, or this has happened before with another omega. The thought of Kieran appears in his mind and he glances at Dutch’s neck, not surprised to see it covered.

“Oh, he’s coming along. And don’t worry, we’ll still have fun, Molly.” Arthur looks away, that feeling of dread scratching at the inside of his chest when he briefly grinds against her to show off what Arthur had done. Molly grins and passes a glance at Arthur, one of rubbing their entire relationship in his face.

“Why don’t you go get your collar,  _ dog? _ ” She teases, looking back up at Dutch, who doesn’t say anything to protect him like the others sitting at the fire, or like Hosea did. The look the alpha gives him after he stands there for a moment sends his legs into immediate action. He carries the plate out of the room, quickly moving down the hall partly because of Dutch’s look, and the other part being that he doesn’t want to be there while everything is heating up between them. He doesn’t even want to imagine it.

Climbing the stairs, he stirs the food on his plate with a spoon, lifting a few pieces and placing them in his mouth. It’s lukewarm, meaning that Molly had meandered after getting them. Did Dutch tell her about what he was planning to do to the omega? Arthur is so foolish for letting the alpha get into his head and control him like that.

He walks into his room and shuts the door behind him, once again twisting the lock and leaning against the door when he finally feels separated from everything. Only a couple of days and he already yearns to be free of this place; of its people. There are a few he could live with for a while, but so far, others are slowly working at his nerves, and he’s not sure how long he can handle that, especially when he’s got guns so easily accessible to him. All it would take is a shot to the head…

The thought lingers and disappears as he eats, finding the food to be rather good despite the temperature. As he eats, he removes himself from the door and trails over to the window, glancing out and seeing a small boy running around in the frosted grass below. He’s playfully scooped up by a woman, one he hasn’t seen yet, and they go tumbling to the ground. There’s a man to the side, watching with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. They look happy.

He wonders what kind of past they had to endure before reaching this point of happiness. It seems to Arthur that he will never reach it, and he’ll be left to suffer a sad existence, alone. Not with an alpha or a child to call his own. It’ll simply be Arthur until the day he dies.

Stepping away from the window, he sighs and sits down on the edge of his mattress. Dutch and Molly are likely getting heated down there, and Arthur was the one to cause it. He was the reason Dutch was… Arthur huffs, feeling his eyes tear up again. He sets the plate down beside him on the mattress and hunches over, head in his hands. At the very least, Dutch will reward him after they return from Saint Denis. He promised. There’s something there this time, something verbal, that should keep Dutch from leaving again. Right?

Glancing over at the plate, he gently snuffles and lifts it back onto his lap. The food is good, he should indulge in it. He’s not sure how long he’ll get to eat it, so he hurries along, spooning small amounts into his mouth.

The plate is empty before he knows it, setting it on a nearby table and standing. He looks to the dresser and sees the collar which had been picked for him. Shuffling over and lifting it, he examines the leather. It’s fine, intricately made, with a dark violet-pigmented line around the edges of it. Arthur can’t help but say it is rather pretty, but not around his neck. Not when it controls him and is connected to a chain held by someone else.

He figures it would be good for time to latch it to the D-ring of the collar, so he pulls the chain up and latches it on. Blinking a few times, he slowly lifts it to his neck and finds a comfortable size, clasping it and dropping his arms. The metallic sound of the chain now upsets him. He’s only a pet. Only ever been a pet; will only ever be a pet; a trophy omega.

Huffing, he wonders if it’s been long enough as he pulls on the winter gloves left for him. He picks up the plate and carries it downstairs, setting it in the pile with several other half-empty plates. He has half a mind to snag a few bites, but the idea of Micah having put his mouth near the food disgusts him and makes him forget his appetite completely. Wandering back to the office, he hears Molly and Dutch. They aren’t talking, it sounds very similar to the night before. This time, though, he steps away and moves towards the door to the outside. He takes a step out and again, regrets it instantly.

“The mutt’s got his collar on now!” Micah laughs, shouting across the way from the fire. Seems like he hasn’t moved from that spot after getting up to torment Arthur.

“Yeah, unlike you, Dutch cares to keep me around.” Arthur retorts, hoping for the same reaction as last time, but receiving none of it.

“You sure? He told me he just keeps you here to repopulate the place when everyone gets shot.” Micah speaks so confidently and obviously expects everyone to be on his side, but it seems as if it never turns out in his favour. Luckily for everyone, not a soul dares to drag him on. They don’t want to be individually shunned for egging the clown on.

Arthur ignores Micah, walking along the side of the house and shoving his hands in his pockets again, one with the chain so it makes less noise. He wants to know what’s going on where he isn’t, who that child is. As he turns the corner, he sees the boy running around with a dog. It reminds him of his own, the one his father had shot in the backyard once. The man had been blackout drunk and forgot about it within the hour, but Arthur never did. He buried Copper in the perfect place under a tree, saying to himself that the dog could run around with the rabbits in heaven. His father, of course, had heard his “nonsense” and beat him for it, for being an omega, for being alive.

Arthur swallows, stepping closer and watching as the boy sees him. At first the little one is cautious, approaching slowly with the woman from earlier just behind him. The man is not standing far, keeping a close eye on the omega as he speaks to the two.

“Who are you?” The boy asks, and Arthur smiles a bit, kneeling down.

“My name’s Arthur.” He watches as the woman silently protects the boy, holding a hand on his shoulder.

“Why are you wearing a dog collar?” This is when the woman breaks her silence, leaning down a bit.

“Jack, we talked about this.” Jack takes a moment to remember, then nods his head.

“Sorry, mister Arthur.” Jack apologises and runs off, likely to do things worth more of his time. Arthur stands and meets the woman’s eyes.

“Sorry about him, he’s so innocent, poor thing.” She sighs and sticks her hand out for Arthur to take. He notices that it’s the one for which he wouldn’t have to raise the chain-holding hand, and silently thanks her, despite it probably being a coincidence. He takes it and smiles as she shakes his hand. “Abigail Roberts Marston.”

“Well ain’t that just a mouthful?” She laughs a little and nods. “Arthur Morgan. Pleased to find that there’s at least one normal person here.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a place for the strange folk, but I wouldn’t call myself normal.” Arthur raises an eyebrow and tilts his head a bit until noticing that the man has approached and drapes his arm around Abigail’s waist as if to tell Arthur something. “And this is John Marston, my mate.” Arthur stiffens. He’s heard the name before. It was the worst of times in which he heard it, but that’s the most he knows. He can’t remember quite where, but he reaches out to shake John’s hand nevertheless.

“Arthur!” Dutch calls from the house, standing next to Molly, of course, waving his hand for Arthur to come closer. He breathes a sigh and gives a small smile to the Marstons, then turns to approach the alpha. “Was wondering where you got off to. Fraternising with the family?”

“Sure, Dutch.” Arthur looks off towards where the horses are hitched, less as a scan of his surroundings and more of an excuse to look away from the two in front of him. “What are we takin’?”

“The wagon you and I were brought back in.” Arthur nods, trailing behind the lovebirds as they make their way in that direction. Arthur follows at a distance, ready to be in the box with the two of them, if only for the warmth. Maybe he can rest on the way there and spare himself the horrible smacking of lips. He shudders at the idea. “Here she is.”

Dutch lets go of Molly to bring the horses over, tying them to the front of the box and stepping back for a moment.

“You know how to ride a horse, Arthur?” Dutch asks, and Arthur nods. “Well, drivin’ one of these isn’t too different. Hop on up there,” Dutch directs the omega, Arthur’s hopes falling flat as he does. Of course he’d be the one on the outside of the box. No warmth. That is, unless Dutch is sitting up there with him. Dutch hands him the reins and steps up to the seat for a moment. Arthur’s heart swells. Molly will be left in the back, probably shivering her muscles sore. Dutch sits, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. He hands it over, waiting for Arthur to unfold it. It’s a map depicting the state of Lemoyne, and Arthur nods as Dutch points to where they are, then where they’re going. He pats Arthur’s shoulder, then hops down. Wait.

Arthur looks to where Dutch had just been sitting beside him, taking a slow breath. This was all expected anyway. And to top it all off, as soon as Dutch is in the back, he hears the alpha’s voice.

“Arthur, hang the chain on your collar down into here.”

“Sorry?”

“Turn the collar around and hang it in here. I want to know if you ditch us on the side of the road somewhere. At least then, we won’t look like half-crazed idiots, callin’ for you.” Arthur nods despite no one there to see it, and twists the collar around. He pulls the chain from his pocket and tosses it back, feeling Dutch softly tug on it to make sure it’s connected. Not enough to choke Arthur, but enough for him to feel pressure. “Let’s go, then.”

Arthur’s lips curl downwards as he flicks the reins, guiding the horses to follow a path towards Saint Denis.


	6. A Walk Through Town

It’s cold. Arthur sits alone on the seat for so long, shivering. He’s sure he’ll be sick if he doesn’t find warmth soon, but that doesn’t seem like an option as soon as he sees the map and notices that they’re only halfway there. His teeth are chattering and he’s trying to rub his knees together for more warmth, but it doesn’t seem to help much. He craves to have Dutch beside him, maybe kissing his neck or talking in that silky voice of his, lighting the inside of Arthur on fire to combat the freezing cold on the outside.

The entire time he stares at the pathways, he can hear the muffled conversation of the two in the back, but he tries his best not to listen in on what they’re saying. He’s curious, but he also doesn’t want to know when they start getting heated again in there… they’re like rabbits, without the ears and tail.

Arthur quietly hums to himself through his chattering teeth, watching as his breath reveals itself from his nose and dissipates almost immediately. He can still feel the tug of Dutch’s hand on the chain every now and again, trying not to let himself be taken by surprise when it happens multiple times after he stops humming. And Arthur thought his teeth were loud enough.

It takes an hour or two to get to Saint Denis, and as soon as they’re within the vicinity, Arthur can smell the factories. It’s the smell of burning charcoal, which, in theory, is not too bad, but Arthur prefers the smell of the fresh, open air. Dutch must’ve smelled it as well, clearing his throat and speaking to the omega driving them.

“Find a place off to the side, Arthur,” the omega silently nods, teeth still chattering and body still trembling from the cold. He glances around and sees a little area next to a tree, guiding the horses to it and pausing there. He tries to get off but finds himself restrained, the collar still held tightly in Dutch’s grasp. He chokes a bit when he tries to stand and is pulled so suddenly back down, taking a moment to gain his ground again.

By the time he’s recollected himself, Dutch has taken the reins from him and is tying them around the tree trunk, Arthur slowly standing and pulling himself from the seat. He gets himself back on the ground before blowing warm air into his hands and rubbing them along his arms, trying to keep himself from getting sick, if that’s possible now. He’ll likely have a fever within a day or two, at this rate.

Dutch turns to see Arthur, how the omega’s nose is bright red and his entire body is trembling. He walks up and Arthur is wondering if Dutch will hug him, share a bit of the warmth, if only for a few moments, and smiles. Of course, as soon as the alpha approaches, he lifts his hand and twists the collar around, unlatching the chain. He tosses it up to where Arthur had sat and turns to Molly, offering his arm. She gladly takes it, wrapping her own arms around Dutch’s.

Arthur moves to do the same on the alpha’s other arm, still smiling with hopes of warmth, but is stopped short when they start walking and Arthur is left to drag his feet along the cobblestone, still shivering, and now with a downtrodden look on his face. He’s not sure why he got his hopes up, maybe because he thought Dutch would pity the poor omega who is likely to be sick within the week. He should’ve known Dutch wouldn’t do that. Not for Arthur, at least.

“Where would you like to go first?” Arthur looks up from the few feet behind them that he’s trailing, thinking Dutch is speaking to him. After all, the man had invited him with the plan of purchasing things for Arthur.

“The jewellers, Dutch.” Molly replies, laughing a bit. “You know me better than anyone else, and you don’t know where I’d go first?” Dutch nods, smiling. Arthur stays silent and glances around. The city seems so large, especially with the smaller towns in New Hanover. Everything looks to be here. A barber, several theatres, and a post office… Along with a jeweller’s and a tailor. No wonder someone would want to live here. With the only obvious negative being the smell, everything else is pretty nice. Everything a person could want is within an arm’s length.

“Arthur,” Dutch says, making the omega finally look up. The alpha stops and turns around, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small stack of cash. He folds a bill over and hands it to Arthur, the omega looking down at the crisp five in his hand. “Go into the barber, get yourself cleaned up. Should only be two dollars. We’ll be just this way,” Dutch points across the road and down a bit. “So don’t think of getting smart with me. We’ll return when we’re done.” Arthur quietly nods, eagerly moving towards the barber’s, hoping for a push of warm air on his face when he enters. He looks at the five in his hand, remembering that Dutch had mentioned the exact amount. Clearly for this reason, Dutch wants him to return with three dollars, not any more or less.

He gets just that, the cold air far behind him after he enters and rubs his hands together to dispel the cold still left on them. The barber looks over, seeing the collar immediately.

“Here for a bit of trimming?” The man asks, moving to a chair and gesturing for Arthur to sit. The omega stands there for a moment then moves forward, placing himself down in the seat and slowly allowing himself to relax against his steadily warming clothes. Arthur clears his throat.

“I was told to get myself cleaned up, so I guess we’ll start with a clean shave.” The omega says, looking at the man in the mirror. He seemed to be much more inviting before seeing the collar. Is it really that much of a status killer? Is Arthur looked at differently now, simply because he’s owned? Maybe it’s because he’s an omega, and that much is clear now. Before the collar, he could pass himself off as a beta with very little hassle. Now?

“Very good,” the barber hums, mixing up the lather and brushing the warmth across Arthur’s cold cheeks. He tips his head back when the man asks for him to do so, feeling the tip of the razor slowly slide across his skin. It feels nice to have an actual razor skimming the hair off rather than the communal knife he’d gotten used to with Cecil’s business, and Arthur takes notice of this. He used to have these pleasantries until he was captured, and he supposes that was his fault. His position, with the family and all of them, is his fault. Had he kept to his own, none of this would’ve happened, and maybe he’d still be with Mary, wherever she is now.

He sits up in the chair when the barber tells him he’s finished, Arthur looking himself in the mirror. He looks younger; more like an omega. Looking down at the money in his hand, he asks for a cut as well, showing the man where he’d usually gotten it cut before. He nods and Arthur lowers his head, feeling the shears pass over the back of his head. He tilts his head with the barber’s requests, keeping his eyes shut the entire time. He feels the man work something through his hair near the end, and he looks up when the barber announces that he’s finished. What Arthur doesn’t expect is the surface of his hair to look so shiny, clearly the work of pomade. He hadn’t asked for pomade, and if the price is the same from when he’d last purchased it, that leaves him with only a dollar and fifty cents. The barber snags the money from Arthur’s hand and he reaches for it, standing from the chair.

“I can’t pay for the pomade.”

“Sure you can, sir. You have enough.”

“No, you don’t understand, mister. I  _ can’t _ pay.” The barber ignores the omega, pulling a dollar bill and a few coins out from a drawer inside a desk.

“Then be glad your money talks for you.” Arthur is handed the money and turned towards the door. “Good day.” The omega opens his mouth to say something as the barber returns to the seat he’d been sitting in with a broom, but he’s stopped. “ _ Good day to you, sir. _ ” Arthur hears the tone, and while it’s not quite an alpha’s voice, he can tell the man means business. Despite his urge to stay and keep what little self-esteem he has, fight for the fact that Dutch had essentially told him not to spend that much, his legs surge into action and he’s out the door within a few seconds.

Standing outside in the cold again, he stuffs his hands in his pockets. Hopefully Dutch will understand, maybe go in and stand up for him?

Arthur wishes he had brought the journal and a pencil. He could be writing something or sketching the town, as he’d done on other sheets of paper before. Mary used to say to him that his drawings were beautiful, but her father never wanted him in their lives. Arthur was a low-life omega with a terribly-paying job at a saloon, so no wonder. If only her father could see him now, Arthur would be the laughing stock for the next twenty years.

Looking up to dispel his thoughts, he sees four men, obviously alphas, staring at him from across the road. He looks towards the jeweller’s, hoping to see Dutch making his way out of the shop, but he doesn’t. The men slowly start to make their way over, and Arthur subtly panics. What will they do? Even if Dutch did show up, he’s sure the alpha would only stand and watch as his own kind slowly feasted on Arthur’s flesh if they wanted to. The idea disgusts Arthur.

“And what’s an owned omega like yourself doin’ out here all alone?” One of them purrs, and Arthur swallows harshly. It’s nothing like Dutch’s charm and charisma, but he still feels a draw, seeing as they are all alphas.

“Just waitin’.” Arthur responds simply, glancing over at the shop again.

“For a group of alphas like us to come scoop you up, I hope.” Another steps forward, reaching to brush his hand across Arthur’s face. The omega steps back as far as he can, hitting the wall, yet still being touched by the alpha’s hand. He flinches away from the hand when it tips his chin upwards, causing the alpha to roughly grab Arthur’s face.

“Shit-lookin’, but he’ll do.” The first says again, grinning. “You like it rough, Omega? Or should we be careful when touchin’ you?”

“Looks like he bruises easily.” Arthur tries to flinch away again, staring at the faces of the men whom he’d feared all of his life. Any alpha walking by could pick him up and drag him away that easily, and Arthur could do little to nothing about it. His body weight is lower. His muscle mass is smaller. He’s physically inclined to be submissive and easy to take. “That shouldn’t stop ya, though.” The one holding his jaw lifts him from the ground, Arthur letting out a small whine as it puts an unto amount of stress on his spine. He’s then tossed to the ground a foot or two away.

If it weren’t for his elbows stopping him against the ground, he could’ve possibly cracked his head open there, or knocked himself unconscious. He feels his shoulders crack when he falls, but they aren’t broken, so he yanks himself up from the ground and begins to make a run for it.

One of them catches his ankle and they all laugh as he falls, scratching harshly at the ground as he desperately tries to escape.

“Let the omega go, boys.” Dutch’s voice is heard, and Arthur breathes a heavy sigh of relief. Finally he shows up.

Arthur’s ankle is dropped and he pushes himself further away from the four of them, despite Dutch being there. He’s not sure if Dutch will actually save him. It seems that despite Arthur’s view of him, the alpha is the same as every other one Arthur has ever met. Selfish and powerful. He sees Dutch there, holding a revolver by his side. Maybe he’s holding it to shoot Arthur, finally put him out of his misery.

“Or what, mister?” One of the alphas growls at Dutch, who immediately aims the revolver directly between the man’s eyes. The stranger visibly stiffens with the firearm in his face, eyes a little wider than they were before.

“Or I believe your friends and I will have a little  _ chat _ . Hope you don’t mind if it’s without you.” The alpha laughs a bit.

“You wouldn’t.” Dutch lifts his thumb and pulls the hammer spur back, creating a threatening click between the two of them.

“Try me.” Dutch glares, nostrils flaring. Arthur doesn’t believe Dutch anymore. The omega is not worth this much fuss, and he’s likely only doing it to show off in front of Molly.

“Got it.” One of the alphas without a gun trained on him, slowly steps away from Arthur and gestures for the other two to make the movement as well. They do, and Dutch keeps his eyes on the one right in front of him. The gun is moved briefly towards the others to gesture for the alpha to follow. The stranger swallows and nods, moving off in that direction and running with them as soon as he’s safely away from the end of the barrel.

Dutch disarms and sets the gun back in its holster, moving to Arthur and putting out a hand. The omega looks up at him and damn near breaks down. Finally, Dutch is showing that he cares, even in the smallest way. Arthur grabs the hand and pulls himself up with it, Dutch immediately hooking his finger under Arthur’s collar and tugging him close.

“You lead them on, Arthur?” The omega gulps and quickly shakes his head.

“Was just standin’ here, they thought it was a nice invitation.” Dutch looks at Arthur, sighing and letting him go. Arthur glances over the alpha’s shoulder, seeing Molly there. She’s inspecting a new ring with one hand and brushing her fingers over a brand new pearl necklace with the other, smiling like a child. Arthur scowls. He gets a simple five dollars, while she gets this? Susan must’ve been completely off her rocker when she’d said they fight.

“You got the rest of the money I gave you?” The omega tenses, reaching for his pocket and pulling the bill and coins out. Dutch’s face falls and he takes the money, glaring at it and shoving it into his own pocket. “What is this? I told you two dollars.” Dutch’s glare drifts up to point directly at Arthur. “Get some nice pomade, did you?”

“I… Dutch, I ain’t asked for it.” The alpha shakes his head, a look of confusion on his face.

“Then why did you pay for it, Arthur? Surely if you ain’t asked for it, it wouldn’t be there.” Arthur takes a step back, lowering his gaze in partial submission.

“Barber took my money ‘fore I could do anythin’ about it.” Arthur sighs. “Look, Dutch, I’ll pay you back—”

“With what money, Arthur?” Dutch’s voice is angry, and the omega can only stare at him in slight fear. Is he insulting Arthur now, too? Rubbing in his face that an omega can’t get a job unless he works at a brothel or whorehouse? What exactly is he supposed to respond with?

“Well, not with money, I can… well, Dutch, I can pay you as soon as we get back.” Dutch looks into Arthur’s eyes for a brief moment before shaking his head and looking away. His entire person changes when he sees Molly, the anger falling off of his face.

“Let’s go. Got one more stop to make.” Arthur trails behind, watching as Dutch walks close to Molly again. He keeps his eyes low still, only watching the backs of their shoes as they move the two of them forward. If he ran now, what would happen? Those four alphas would likely come back, gather Arthur up and toss him easily over their shoulders.

How bad could it be? Would it be as much torture as watching Dutch openly preferring a woman whom the alpha has likely been with for several years? Surely, physical pain wouldn’t hurt as much as the emotional turmoil he is suffering through with these two. All he wants is for Dutch to touch him. Not even his instincts are going so far as to beg for Dutch to mate him or breed him… No, that’ll come with his heat, which will be appearing sometime within the next week. As a boy, he was taught how to avoid alphas, how to draw them away from the scent. He’d seen what a feral alpha looked like one too many times, and he doesn’t want to experience that again. It’s terrifying. Being in a foggy state of mind, and on top of that, being so unbelievably horny that he wants to tear out his lungs with how hard they’re forcing him to breathe… He can only imagine what kind of things Dutch would promise him in that instance. What things the man would whisper in his ear…

“Arthur.” Dutch turns to look at the omega after he’d said the name twice beforehand. Arthur looks up finally, eyes locking with Dutch’s.

“Sorry, I’m… I’m miles away, Dutch.”

“Well, we’re here.” Dutch gestures for the door, following Arthur into the shop. Arthur notices that it’s the tailor as soon as he spots the several clothes on half-bodied mannequins, walking up to the desk to purchase something. Dutch continues following him there, watching as the omega folds open the catalogue. He stops Arthur there with a hand in between the pages, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “Be courteous. Spend as little as you can.”

Arthur immediately stands up straight, finally fed up enough to retort. He tugs the book from Dutch’s hand, setting it back down on the counter. The alpha is taken aback by this, watching as the omega’s expression quickly turns to one of deceitful anger.

“You got anything for free, then?” Arthur snaps at the tailor, who steps back for a moment and nods. Dutch growls at the omega, tugging him harshly away from the counter by the collar. Arthur shoves him away after a few feet, glaring at him.

“What do you think you are doing, talking to him like that?”

“I’m sorry I can’t keep my emotions silent like you can, so you’re able to twist people’s minds until they’re ruined.”

“This is  _ not  _ the place for this, Arthur.”

“Where is, then?” Arthur shouts, moving back to the counter and looking in the box of free items the tailor sets out. He’s able to grab a hat, ruined with several bullet holes, before Dutch violently tears him away and out the door.

“I oughta kill you for raising your voice to me like that,  _ Omega _ .” Dutch throws Arthur to the ground and pulls his gun on the omega. “Don’t you know your place?”

“No, Dutch, why don’t you point that gun in my face and tell me where my place should be. Should I sit by your foot and beg for attention? Chase the rabbits for you? Lie down when you command me?” Dutch’s arm is trembling from how hard he’s trying not to shoot the damn omega there, finger tensing around the trigger. The hammer isn’t pulled back, so it won’t do anything if he pulls it, but the thought of having a gun to his face should terrify Arthur. Should intimidate him, prove a point at the very least. It never did for Kieran either, he supposes, and drops it.

“Do I ask much of you, Arthur?” Dutch’s voice lowers, his teeth grit as he hisses words leaking of venom at the omega. This is when Arthur backs off. A pang of guilt stills him in his spot. He lowers his head.

“No, sir.” This is not entirely true, seeing as Dutch expects him to be able to keep his mouth shut when the alpha touches him in such wonderful ways; expects him not to tell, not to rat Dutch out. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, and there’s a long list of things he’s done and regretted.

“That’s right.  _ Sir _ . Do you see where I stand over you, Arthur? Why you are the one in the collar, and I am not?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Arthur’s eyes are kept low until Dutch’s hand pushes the omega’s chin up, eyes meeting the alpha’s.

“You are selfish, greedy, and inconsiderate, Arthur.” Arthur can’t help but think the same in return. He doesn’t say anything, a lump catching in his throat as he stares back at Dutch, who is still holding his chin. Not affectionately or passionately; as a sign of power over him. “I offer to bring you here, spend the camp’s funds on you, and you make me look like a total fool.” The omega’s eyes shut as a little frown makes its way onto his face, a glower forming despite Arthur willing it not to. Dutch lets go of him, walking off, back towards the wagon again. Arthur opens his eyes to see Dutch stalking off beside Molly, a tension growing in the omega’s chest. Arthur takes a moment to start after them, slowly catching up with them. After spending the majority of the time in Saint Denis outside, his fingers are just as cold as they were when they arrived, if not colder and holding less feeling.

When they get back to the wagon, Dutch climbs into the back with Molly without a word towards Arthur. The omega has half a mind to apologise for his outburst, just to get Dutch to care enough to demand his chain be on, but he’s able to stop the tight grip around his heart after looking away from them.

He unties the reins from the tree, climbing up to the seat and getting as comfortable as he can with the cold wood under him. The breath dragging through him takes several moments to exhale before he finally smacks the reins down.


	7. A Silver Lining

Two days later, Arthur finds himself sick enough to stay in bed. He and Dutch hadn’t fixed the clear rift between the two of them, and from the uncomfortable feeling lingering over everyone when the both of them are in the room, it doesn’t look to be corrected any time soon. The pair would silently send glares back and forth while the other wasn’t looking, though Arthur’s were more prominent when Dutch was accompanied by Molly. Always with Molly. Seems whenever Arthur approaches, the woman is there on the alpha’s lap. It’s ludicrous.

As he spends his time alone in the room he was gifted, he finds his hands fishing for something to do. All he’s really capable of doing is handling the firearms he’d found in that crate, inspecting them. He finds that they are far from overused, maybe having ever shot a couple of bullets each in their lifetimes. What’s the use of having a gun when you’re not using it? Had this Kieran used them for something else? An act of treason, and that’s the cause for Dutch not wanting anyone to know about the whole mating situation? Perhaps he’d mated a murderer, then ended up becoming the murderer, himself.

After thinking on it for a while, Arthur sets one of the few weapons back into the crate. He’s careful to lift the lid back onto the wooden box, setting it straight and pushing it back to the corner where he found it. It’s more of a worry than anything else; Arthur doesn’t want anyone knowing he’d gone searching in this deceased man’s things, especially Dutch, seeing who the man was to the alpha.

Arthur’s eyes catch on the journal, lying out on the dresser. He moves for it, picking it up and running his fingers across the cover again. There’s something clawing for him to pull it open and search it again. Wondering if there’s still pieces of the past he can uncover from this journal. Who would write their initials in such a personal item, then not write a thing? Even Arthur’s had a journal once. It’s far too long ago for him to remember much of what he wrote, but it helped in the long run. If Kieran had purchased the journal, why wouldn’t he write something in it after permanently claiming it as his own?

Curious, he unlatches the leather and skims the pages again. There isn’t a terrible number of pages, but it still takes him a little longer than it had the last time to run his eyes over the pages. He’s about to give up on the second try, the feeling still picking at his heart like his finger does as he separates the pages from one another. He wonders, if he set the book down now, what would happen. If he’d forget about it, or if it would haunt him until he tries again. The will to set the book down in the gun crate crosses his mind just before he finds a section written in smudged ink on the back of the very last page. The paper is warped, as if it had gotten wet at some point.

Arthur’s eyebrows furrow and he backs up to the bed, sitting and holding the page open as he reads.

‘Today is probably my last day alive. Daddy, I hope you’re proud of me, because I’m coming to meet you even if you ain’t. I made a mistake. Don’t forget that your daddy, and his daddy, made mistakes too. They all lead up to a mistake like me, and I ain’t gonna deny that. I just want a little bit of mercy. I guess I woulda made you proud for a little while at least. You always wanted me to figure out what was going on with that Van der Linde. Guess I done that now, ain’t I? You were always right about him. He is a killer. You saw it in his eyes, and now I do too.’

Arthur pauses when he hears a knock at the door, hurriedly shutting the journal and shoving it under the blanket. If anyone knew he was snooping, surely he’d be scolded, if not shunned for doing so.

“Come in,” he croaks through his sick voice, clearing his throat as the sound is unsettlingly hoarse. It usually takes him a day or two to get past this phase of a sickness, but he’ll soon be able to talk again as he had before being sick.

“Arthur,” Susan’s voice is heard as she opens the door, stepping through and shutting it behind her. It seems to have become common courtesy to shut doors after entering a room. One would find it suspicious, but Arthur spots the bowl in Susan’s hand and his thoughts immediately jump to it. “You sound absolutely horrible. You been restin’?”

“Sure,” Arthur nods, repositioning while still keeping the journal hidden under the covers, in sight. “Doin’ less than I usually am.” He clears his throat again, harsher this time. Susan moves forward and gently sets the bowl down next to the bed, carefully sitting down beside Arthur.

“You need to be sleeping, Arthur. We can’t have you sick, especially when your heat comes around.” Arthur lets out a heavy sigh at the comment. Of course, god forbid he forget for a few moments. It should only be a few days now, if not less. He’s lost track, especially caused by when he was under Cecil’s watch, when the scent of the alphas in rut just down the hall would linger in the omegas’ noses and cause them to go absolutely wild. Many times, their ruts would send Arthur’s heat to him far before he was expecting it, and he’s lost track of his true schedule now.

The omega shifts to grab the bowl, seeing a soup inside. It’s likely only the broth from the stew, but it’s appreciated nonetheless. He lifts the spoon to his mouth, cooling the liquid with a chilling breath before pushing the spoon into his mouth. It’s wonderful. Especially the warmth on his aching throat.

“So, I heard about the situation with you and Dutch…”

“Yeah.” Arthur doesn’t want to talk about this. He just wants an apology. Seems that’s all he’s ever wanted from Dutch, the handful of days he’s known the man. Susan heaves a gentle breath, looking away from the omega.

“You have to face him at some point, Arthur. You can’t keep avoiding him like this. It’s ruining the whole group when the two of you are around.”

“I want nothin’ to do with him,” Arthur lies. All he’s been able to think about is Dutch’s hands on him, that hot breath on his neck and the things the alpha does to him without trying. He wants everything to do with Dutch, he only wants Molly out of the picture. His mind flickers to the guns in the crate, but he quickly waves away the thought before it can get too detailed.

“He’s an alpha. You know you can’t avoid him if he is determined.”

“And he ain’t talked to me yet. Treats me like I’m nothin’.”

“Arthur, you need to make an effort to—”

“I will!” The omega blurts, catching Susan completely off-guard. She should’ve seen this coming, what with Arthur’s outburst with Dutch. She’d like to think she’s intimidating, but when compared to Dutch, she’s a mouse under the foot of Dutch’s elephant. They’re both scared of one another, but Dutch is clearly the one who would win between the two of them. “I can’t… right now. With my heat comin’, I don’t know if he’d be…”

“I know.” Susan is much quieter now, lifting a hand and patting Arthur’s thigh a couple of times. “I can tell you still need some time alone. I’ll come back in a little while to get the bowl, you focus on restin’ up.” She stands, giving a soft smile to Arthur, who smiles back. At least she is able to handle an explosion like that, in ways it seems Dutch never could, and never will be.

The alpha steps out of the room, leaving Arthur to sit alone again. He sets the bowl aside quickly, careful not to spill the soup, and digs the journal out from where it is hidden. He opens it to where he’d been, skimming the paragraph until he finds where he’d left off. At the very least, this man’s penmanship was legible and he wrote in words Arthur could understand.

‘Van der Linde is a nasty man when he wants to be. I only hope nobody else has to suffer because they made the same mistakes as me. Some stupid omega, secretly from an enemy gang and planning to sabotage him. Who woulda thought, huh, Daddy?’

Arthur stares at the entire page, reading it over again. A gang? Dutch was part of a gang? Or… is  _ this _ the gang? He thought they were a family, not anything close to a gang. It sure would explain why Dutch is so intimidating and easy to anger. A rival gang?

Before he can think about what he’s doing, he sets the journal down on the bed and stands. Coughing for a moment, he clears his airway and moves out of his room. There’s only one person he needs to talk to now, and it likely will not end well. He hears a sound coming from Dutch’s room and he moves to investigate, not caring about the possible consequences. He doesn’t care anymore. He wants answers before something happens to the people in this “gang”, or whatever they’d like to go by.

Pushing the door open, he’s met with Dutch’s back. The man is alone, and the room smells of something strange. Arthur can’t quite put his finger on it, but the scent doesn’t deter him.

“Don’t you know to knock?” Dutch growls as he turns around, surprised by Arthur’s face at the door. “Arthur. Come to apologise?” Arthur shakes his head, storming up to the man. In the moments he takes to approach, he loses his will. It’s gone within steps, his mind recognising the scent immediately.

Rut.

“Dutch,” Arthur breathes, his knees caving with a heavy first wave of heat, and for once, the alpha catches him by the arm. The omega watches as Dutch’s face changes, a look of indecision covering his look of anger. There’s a moment between when Dutch catches Arthur and when the alpha pulls him up to stand, but there’s hardly a pause before Dutch shoves Arthur face-down against a desk and hooks his fingers under Arthur’s collar. A swift tear is made along the back of the shirt, the fabric falling loose around Arthur’s arms when Dutch pulls him back up. Arthur’s breath is heavy by now, heart rate picking up. Dutch drops the strip of cloth to the floor, hands pulling at the rest of the shirt. It falls to the floor and immediately Dutch’s hands slide along the length of Arthur’s sides.

“So you come to see me, with hardly a word,” Dutch hooks an arm under Arthur’s front, lifting him for his back to be flush against Dutch’s covered chest. “And this is what I receive.”

Dutch can't help his mind from being stirred and uncertain about several things. After what he’d done with Kieran, it’s only a matter of time before he makes that mistake again, and unfortunately, it had happened just this way before. Kieran had stumbled upon Dutch in rut, and the alpha’s instincts took over. He’d made a mistake, and one he hadn’t yet realised the consequences of until days later. He  _ had _ to be a damn O’Driscoll boy, of course he did. There was no way Dutch would get on that easily with no unexpected turns.

“I’m— it ain’t my fault, Dutch, I didn’t know…” Arthur arches against the man when a hand touches his face and turns it to look more towards Dutch.

“Yes, yes. Your instincts. That’s what you say. That’s what they all say.” Dutch mutters into Arthur’s ear, but the omega doesn’t shiver as he’d expected him to. Hardly moves at all, as a matter of fact. Freezes up, even.

“Let me see the mark,” Arthur chokes through his stupor. He remembers why he came in here. There was no reason otherwise.

“The mark,  _ Arthur? _ ” Dutch’s voice turns into that of a bittersweet taste. Arthur can hear the lust and longing, yet the anger and betrayal are creeping up through that lovely velvet sound.

“The one on your neck, I wanna see it.”

“Who told you.”

The first person he thinks of is Kieran, but the man had been dead before he could’ve met him, so the idea is immediately discarded. He thinks of telling the truth, but in Dutch’s haze, the man would likely kill whomever’s name came from Arthur’s lips. Perhaps Micah, then. The rat deserved it enough, and Arthur’s known him for less than a week.

“I asked,  _ who told you. _ ” That alpha voice is back, enraged, and Arthur mutters the only name to come to mind after the other three.

“Molly.”

Straightaway, Arthur knows he’s gone and said the wrong thing. Dutch completely lets go of him, pressing his palm into Arthur’s back and shoving him harshly down against the desk. The alpha holds him there for a moment before rushing away, out the door. Arthur is slow to regain himself, coughing from the pressure against his lungs, but stumbling after Dutch, several seconds behind the furious man. A flash of black is all Arthur catches flying down the stairs, the omega leaning against a wall for balance and pushing himself off of it when he can’t see the alpha anymore.

“Duh—” Arthur heaves, much too quiet to do much good. He’s not quite sure why he’s stopping the man, having wanted the woman dead since laying eyes on her, but something about this seems wrong. Like he’s going behind the man’s back, only to turn him on the wrong person. “Dutch…” 

He flounders down the stairs, watching Dutch whip around the corner and retrieve that gun from its holster. Immediately the heat clouding his vision disappears, and he staggers a bit faster after the alpha. Dutch shoves the door to the office open and inside sit Molly and Susan. Molly stands from the female alpha’s lap and covers her bare chest, shying away as Dutch’s gun is pointed directly at her. Arthur watches as Susan straightens herself, pulling the skirt of her dress down when she stands.

“You know we do not take chances here, Molly.” Dutch hisses. “I will not stand for something so simple, when in the big picture, can be seen as treacherous.” The beta whips around after her clothes are fixed, glaring Dutch in the eyes.

“What are you on about now, Dutch? Your rut makin’ you angrier than usual?”

“You knew.”

“Knew what, you bastard? Spit it out now, Dutch!”

“About Kieran.” Instantly Susan’s eyes are on Arthur, knowing just what this is about. “You knew about what happened, about what he was.”

“I warned you that gettin’ another omega would put a nail in the coffin for your sanity, Dutch, but I never expected it to go this far!”

“You knew, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know a thing, Dutch!”

“You wish for me to keep your affairs with Miss Grimshaw a secret, when you can’t keep your lip sealed for a moment with mine!” Dutch sounds hurt, and Arthur wants to reach out and stop him, but the yelling keeps him from doing so. Molly opens her mouth to say something in retort before the trigger is pulled and her body stumbles backwards with the impact, hitting the floor with a hollow thud. Susan screams in terror, rushing over to her, and every part of Arthur stands on end. This is his fault. If he’d told Dutch the truth, that Susan had told him, perhaps she wouldn’t be clutching Molly’s body so shakily. Perhaps if he’d told Dutch that Susan was the rightfully guilty party, she could’ve worked it out with Dutch. It didn’t have to end like this. It doesn’t always have to end like this, but it always  _ does, _ when Arthur is around, doesn’t it? First with Mary, and now…

“Come on, Arthur.” Dutch mutters, holstering his gun and marching back towards the stairs when he hears voices from outside. Arthur sees that he has no choice and follows, seeing Dutch stop by the doorway. The alpha growls out. “What now?” Forcing through the front doors, he walks out to see several of the other camp members standing, many of them with hands hovering over their holsters or already holding their guns.

On the pathway, there’s a stagecoach with two visible men riding in. Dutch squares his shoulders despite his previous actions eating at him. Arthur, on the other hand, is half-trembling. Without a coat, he’s already freezing, but witnessing what he just has, he can’t stop picturing Susan’s face. The confusion on Molly’s.

Looking down at his hands, Arthur tunes the entire world out and sits himself on the stairs. His eyes watch Dutch as he approaches the stagecoach, the two men lowering themselves to speak with the alpha. His gaze falls to his hands, feeling a hot liquid on them. There’s red pooling in his palms and lodging itself under fingernails. It’s incredibly warm and thick like blood. Is this blood? Arthur looks away after another few seconds, still holding his hands out in front of him. Dutch seems to be getting angrier by the moment. He wonders if these are the people in the enemy gang. Glancing back down, the red is gone. He doesn’t feel it anymore, but the guilt of lying and getting someone falsely killed is horrifying in itself.

Arthur slowly stands and moves to approach the door, looking out the window immediately after hearing the first gunshot. Dutch is still standing, luckily, firing behind himself as he sprints for cover. Arthur ducks so that the enemies, whoever they are, can’t see him as well from where they’re shooting. There are more arriving and Arthur thinks to move for his pistols, but the idea of holding a gun at the moment is terrifying. There’s already enough blood on his hands, and if Arthur can keep with one for today, today’s a lucky day.

He stands and presses his back against a wall between the door and the window, shutting his eyes to breathe for a moment. The split-second he opens his eyes, a figure throws a bag over his head. Arthur makes an attempt at screaming, but the man tightly grasps Arthur’s windpipe and causes him to harshly cough out. The back of his head comes in contact with the wall behind him, then the world fades to black and Arthur is left without a voice to scream with; not that anyone would help him at this point.


	8. A Different Perspective

Dutch finds protection behind a thick stack of firewood, holding out for a few moments in between every shot he fires. He doesn’t know who these people are, not recognising their voices or their faces. All he knows is that there are only alphas present, and his rut is already piquing again. From his little place of refuge, he barks for everyone to get the omegas inside. The reasons are simple: the omegas are far more expendable, and his rut is kicking up into high-gear. He doesn’t expect to have control of himself for too much longer.

Watching around the corner of the wooden barrier, he watches as Micah tugs on Sadie, trying to pull her back inside as she fights to keep in her place. She’s never seen herself as an omega, and she’ll never allow anyone to treat her as such. Since her first heat, as she’s always said, she’s been using a mixture of herbs and plants to keep her scent subtle. She hides away from everyone when her heat comes around, but emerges from her bedroom a week later, ready for anything anyone can throw at her.

Dutch demands Micah to leave her be, half worried for her sake after the beta had tried to get to her on their very first meeting in that heavy snow-cover. She’d be hard to hear this far out, he’d said, we can savour her together. The alpha had sternly declined and helped her instead, knowing just what Micah would do to her; things that are seldom forgotten within a lifetime by any omega.

The beta visibly huffs and shambles off, clearly upset with Dutch having seen him pulling on her. The other omegas are safe inside when Dutch begins to fire bullets, running his barrels dry before lowering himself and pressing his back against the wall of wood for protection. His breath is heaving in and out of his chest, heart heavy. He’s just killed another of his own, and that sound echoes in his mind. It wouldn’t be too much of an issue if he hadn’t known Molly or Miss Grimshaw, certainly, but he did, and he does. Molly was extremely close to his heart despite the anger she created to fester inside of Dutch, and Susan has been with him for decades now. He can’t forget that.

Dutch pulls in a sharp breath and lifts himself after the revolvers are loaded again, firing at the alphas. Luckily, none of their opposition is very skilled in the field of gunslinging, and this is very clear from the amount of bullets ricocheting off of the ground more than any fully hitting the people they were intended to.

“We got ‘im boys, back it on up!” One of them shouts, and Dutch’s mind goes wild. What could they be talking about now? They and Dutch had discussed a fair trade of information for cash before one of them shot a bullet between Dutch’s feet. He’d glared and fired a bullet directly into the alpha’s forehead, glad to have watched him fall from his high pedestal.

Who are they talking about? They’re possibly using it as an excuse for retreat, he supposes, and he fires one last bullet at them before moving around the firewood pile.

“That’s right! Run, you cowards!” Dutch shouts, a confident sneer on his face before Hosea calls to him from the house.

“Everyone is accounted for—”

“Good.” Dutch approaches after holstering his revolvers, looking around at the group of omegas hunched in the main room. The betas (plus Sadie) return from their points of cover, standing beside Dutch as he surveys the crowd. “Is Arthur upstairs, then?” He glances up at the stairs and Hosea gathers a downtrodden look.

“Dutch, Tilly says that Arthur’s gone missing.”

“Missing?” Dutch repeats, a look of agony and anger written all over his face. Not another. Was this the person the alphas had been so happily cheering about as they rode away, and it was not an act of surrender? “What do you mean, missing, Hosea.”

“He’s not anywhere.”

“And you checked every room?”

“Yes.” Dutch feels a cork pop in his mind, his nostrils flaring as he shuts his eyes and sucks in a breath to keep himself calm until the omegas have cleared the area.

“Tilly.” The alpha demands, hands fisted at his sides as he tilts his head back slightly. He hopes none of the omegas are being affected by the scent his body is most likely putting off right now. The only omega he wants is Arthur. He’s the only one Dutch has wanted since first laying eyes on him. The man captivates him in ways he can only imagine when Arthur isn’t around. And with the idea of Arthur being in danger, captured by several alphas, Dutch’s pheromones must be going absolutely wild. “Get all of them out of here.”

“Where—”

“Get them  _ out! _ ” Dutch barks, opening his eyes to see the omega shy away and gather the others, silently leading them outside. Hosea stands in front of him, and Dutch completely tears apart at the seams with his best friend there. “I don’t know what to do, Hosea, I don’t—”

“Dutch, we can figure this out, you’re thinking irrationally with your rut.”

“I’m not  _ ‘thinking irrationally’ _ , Hosea. You’re not hearing what I’m saying.” Dutch’s hands are a flurry as he claws them through his hair and musses it up before throwing them around for emphasis. The man doesn’t understand, he simply can’t. He’s a beta, he’s never been through this before.

“What exactly am I supposed to reply with? Are you going to start ordering me around, too, Dutch?” Hosea knows how to stand for himself, and knows that Dutch will not be able to hurt him, even if the alpha tries. They’re simply too close, too much like family for Dutch to hurt in such a way. Dutch pauses, chest heaving as he looks at the beta and finally listens for a moment. He’s right; he always is. “You need some lemongrass tea, I’ll brew some up for you if you can just stay put for a few minutes, and not hurt anyone else.”

“Hosea.” Dutch snaps out of his mind when the man speaks of leaving. “Listen to me.” He reaches out and grabs the beta’s shoulders, slightly tightening his fingers around the bones there as soon as he’s gotten Hosea’s attention. “I killed Molly.”

“I know, Dutch—”

“Her and Kieran.” Hosea looks at the alpha, wondering if he’s finally gone insane. He’s known since the very day it happened, and similarly with the very few minutes afterwards. Why is Dutch reiterating this. “How—” Dutch’s throat closes up on itself and chokes him. He lowers his head, letting go of Hosea’s shoulders and sucking in a breath as he stands straight. “How did I do that?  _ Why  _ did I do that? It’s like I had no control whatsoever—”

“You need to get a hold of yourself, Dutch. I know you.”

“You know the side of me, the side what isn’t a killer.”

“You’ve always been a killer, Dutch. You know this. You almost killed me the first time we met.”

“I didn’t know any of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t—”

“And if you had, Dutch, what woulda happened then?” Hosea is now holding Dutch’s shoulders, trying to bring the alpha back down to earth. “You woulda continued on like nothin’ happened.”

“I would’ve felt guilty.”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve. You would’ve feigned it for your mental state. You wouldn’ta cared, Dutch. And that scares you, even now.” Hosea looks him in the eyes, a stern, parental glare in them. “You are uneasy when you don’t care, so you worry until you do. You care enough to do that.”

“Hosea…” The beta shakes his head, silencing the alpha.

“I’ll go make you tea, stay here.” And he’s gone.

Dutch stands there staring at the place where Hosea had been, now is not. His mind must be fried at this point, he thinks. That’s what’s caused all of this: his rut.

No.

That’s not what’s done all of this to him; to his family. He’d done this. On a sick whim, he’d acted poorly, and planted pieces where they’d be so believable, that even to Dutch, they’re real. The story is real. The stupid passage he’d written in that journal, which he’d hoped Arthur would find, is real. It’s all ever been real, and Dutch hadn’t touched a bit of it.

The alpha climbs the stairs and moves for Arthur’s bedroom. Stepping in, he can smell the omega’s scent lingering in the air, careful not to step too fast as to enjoy the scent while it lasts. He moves to the bed and sees the journal which he’d worked so intricately on. Careful to scratch Kieran’s initials into the first page, making sure they matched how the omega wrote. Careful to get every dip and twist of the pencil, just as Kieran used to make when he wrote long paragraphs.

He pulls the cover open, flipping to the very last page, sure enough, there are several more thumbprints and smears in the pencil from when he’d last seen it. Dutch reads it over again, nodding when he reaches the end. This was all a big part of his plan, which he hoped would not go horribly wrong.

He’d wanted Molly gone, and for good, but he needed a reason for her to simply disappear, unlike Kieran did. All he needed was a willing subject, an omega preferably, as they are always the ones easiest to persuade with physical affection and a smooth-talking tongue. Dutch needed him to be unknowing of Dutch’s past, unknowing of what lied ahead, yet curious and willing to seek the truth when it was first introduced to him.

Unfortunately, Dutch didn’t plan the trembling of his heart in his chest when he saw Arthur for the first time. Those blue eyes splashed a large pail of water in his face, and he’s still drowning in the remnants of it to this moment. The sounds Arthur made as Dutch touched him, the sight of the goosebumps appearing over the skin on Arthur’s unbelievably soft arms, and the passion in Arthur’s eyes has fascinated him since their very first moment together.

That’s why, when Molly had mentioned an outing for the seventeenth time, Dutch’s mind stuttered and laid out a plan for him. It was simple in theory: all he had to do was avoid Arthur’s gaze. Avoid his wandering, pleading eyes. Focus his affection on Molly for her last living days, despite the overwhelming urge to turn her around and fire a bullet into the back of her head when she complained about how small the pearls were on her necklace. He would’ve spent that money on Arthur in a heartbeat, but he was denying himself that pleasure of seeing Arthur’s smile. He had to remove Arthur’s enchantment over him. That’s how Kieran died, and Arthur is not going to be the one in the omega’s place this time. He’s not going to make the mistake again.

“Dutch,” Hosea’s voice is heard from the doorway and the alpha looks over, slowly setting the journal aside. He’s carrying a cup of tea, steaming in the cold air, despite being blocked by the walls of the house. “Feeling any more coherent?”

“Sure,” Dutch nods, taking the cup from him when it’s offered. The alpha keeps his eyes away as Hosea begins to talk. The idea of Arthur being strung up from the ceiling pops into his mind and he catches himself before making an audible sound of distress and discomfort. He blows on the liquid in the cup, glancing at the bed and remembering Arthur’s second night here. The night he’d had to gather himself and leave Arthur alone. He’d known what Arthur wanted. He’d wanted it just as much, if not more. There was a craving to hold and protect Arthur, despite the man clearly being able to handle himself in that kind of a situation.

Lifting the cup to his lip, he looks away. Arthur doesn’t deserve this, whatever’s happening. Dutch would replace the omega with himself within a heartbeat.

“What are you thinking, Dutch?” Hosea pipes up again, making Dutch look to him as he takes a sip. “You’re silent.”

“Just the past,” Dutch simply answers. “What little is worth thinking about.”


	9. A Sorrowful Longing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in advance.

The only thing Arthur is aware of when he finally wakes up is that his body is not on the ground. There’s something behind his back for sure, keeping his body straight, but it’s not the ground. Arthur lifts his head from the surface, eyes slowly opening to a dim room, with a bright light hanging above him. His vision is severely blurred and doesn’t get any better when he finally realises that he’s propelled off of the ground. He’s tilted back on a platform of wood, dignified by the splinters in his bare body, and his wrists are cuffed in their places. Arthur’s mind is spinning. He’s completely nude in a room he doesn’t recognise, much less care to be in at the moment.

He’s dizzy and the back of his head is throbbing from where it hit the wall, but the most obvious pain is in his lower stomach. The heat pains are still clawing at his insides, begging for him to be mated. He’s always tried to ignore the pains and get as used to them as possible, so they’re not as prominent as they had been during his first heat, but that means nothing in the case of whether or not they feel good. 

“Dutch…” Arthur mutters, voice still incredibly hoarse from the sickness he’s enduring. He feels a cough tear through his throat, coming out rough and painful. His mouth is incredibly dry, his body is in pain, and he’s got no idea where he is. What is he supposed to do in this kind of situation?

“You’re awake,” someone purrs from behind the wooden surface, and Arthur tenses as much as his muscles will allow him to. “Was wondering when you would be.”

“Who—” Arthur’s throat is assaulted with another round of wheezing coughs, fingers in tight fists as he slowly attempts to pull at the cold metal cuffs and somehow soothe his aching throat.

“Gee, someone would think you got TB.” The person moves into view, Arthur’s eyes slowly focusing on the man’s face. It’s one of the alphas from Saint Denis, arms linked behind his back as he smirks so disgustingly at Arthur. “‘Course, even if you did, I’d still do what I’m going to with you.” Arthur lazily watches him, head tilted to the side as he gently pants against the cuffs. He moves his legs, finding them also cuffed, though shackled with chains rather than immobile on the wooden surface.

“What are you gonna do to me?” Arthur asks, a sharp breath interrupting his words at the end when he coughs again. He feels absolutely terrible, and not because he’s likely been on this wooden plank for hours now.

“Well, an omega in heat can only be used in one way, can’t he?”

“You won’t…” Arthur croaks, eyes open in slits as he watches the man parade closer to a lineup of wheels, chains circled around them as a pulley system.

“I will.” The alpha growls. “I don’t see anyone here able to stop me from takin’ what I want, Omega. So behave, and this’ll go better than you think it will.” The alpha hits a cogwheel hung behind the chains, tugging it sharply in one direction and letting it go immediately after it starts spinning in the opposite. Arthur tenses when he feels the platform move, an intense fear setting into his mind when his body starts to fall. He glances up to see chains attached to the board and holding him, and now they are unashamedly falling to let Arthur likely crash to the ground.

He stops a foot before touching the flat floor, violently hitting something else, which sends a nauseating chill through the entirety of his body. At least he’s level now, or close enough to it that Arthur feels a bit more pressure against the wood. The alpha struts around to Arthur’s head, the omega’s eyes slowly tracking him as he moves.

“You’re gonna listen to me, aren’t you?” Arthur breathes out a bit, shaking his head. The alpha frowns immediately, leaning forward and easily lifting a hand, throwing it across Arthur’s face. The omega shudders away from the harsh smack against his cheek, cringing from the sound it made and the tingling feeling from where the hand had just been. “Aren’t you.”

“Y-yes…” Arthur says, though he doesn’t really mean much behind it. He knows the alpha will take what he wants with or without Arthur’s acceptance of it. At this point, Arthur honestly wants the heat pains gone more than anything else, so he’ll willingly give his body until they’re satisfied, whenever that may be.

“Good boy.” Arthur tenses. That’s what Dutch had called him, the name Arthur had adored from the moment it had departed from those lips of his. “You are a good boy, aren’t you?” The alpha’s thumb runs along Arthur’s jawline and he arches into the touch. He needs this. More than anything else, as he tells himself, he needs this.

“I-I am.” Arthur nods, swallowing his pride and trying to keep himself moderately within the alpha’s reach as to not upset the man and get another smack across the face.

“Thought you were.” The alpha grins. “Cliff. You call me Cliff, got it?” Arthur nods desperately, more or less thrusting his hips into the air as an extra warning. “A little excited, are we?”

“Heat, I’m—” Arthur chokes up, voice still incredibly rough. “In heat…”

“Oh, I know.” Cliff points to the omega’s body, the whole thing radiating a scent worth dying for. Every omega has his or her own scent, but their heat accentuates it towards an alpha’s taste. It’s delicious, and many a time Cliff has tasted it for himself. “Far too well, Omega.”

“Please—”

“No begging.” The alpha growls, bringing Arthur’s voice to a firm stop. “I’ll take my sweet time with you. Feel every curve and edge on your body.” The omega nods, eyes shut as he breathes out desperately a few more times. He wants to beg the alpha to hurry it along and feel Arthur after his heat is gone, but he bites the inside of his bottom lip to keep his mouth shut. “ _ Now, _ who was that alpha you were with in Saint Denis?” The alpha slowly sweeps around to Arthur’s right side, hands exploring the omega’s body, much to Arthur’s pleasure.

“His name’s…” Arthur swallows. “Dutch.”

“Yes, but who  _ is _ he, Omega? To you?”

“He bought me.” The omega confesses, knowing that it’s a terrible crime to sell an omega on the market, but so is kidnapping, and he’s been a victim to both of these crimes. “Week or so ago.”

“Bought you? Really. Didn’t know those kindsa places still existed.” Arthur nods, pursing his lips as the alpha slowly moves towards his groin. He can feel the slick slowly beading up and treading down to the wooden panel below him, sending a curt shiver along his spine. “So what does that make him for you, Omega?”

“An owner. An alpha. I wanted him to… to use me, but he fancies someone else.”

“Really. Can’t see why.” The omega pauses, looking up at Cliff. His words sound genuine, but Arthur feels that they’re lacking in much truthfulness. After all, he’d been the one to call him unprepossessing just a few days earlier. “Pretty face like yours.”

“I’m not pretty.” Arthur replies, earning a small silence. He wonders if the alpha is about to hit him for speaking on false terms, but the movement never comes, and Cliff simply lifts himself to place a kiss on Arthur’s lips. Immediately the omega presses into it, despite the rancid taste reminding him that this is not Dutch, and will never be anywhere near the alpha he really wants to be doing this with. The alpha shoves Arthur back down with a firm hand on his chest when the omega has pushed himself up far enough to hold a kiss a foot off of the wooden surface.

“You ask.” Cliff demands, and Arthur nods, feeling a tightness slowly growing in his chest. He wants Dutch. Maybe Dutch would really kiss him, drag his raw emotions out of him, but this alpha will not. All Arthur wants is for his heat to be gone. “Otherwise, don’t move.” The alpha separates himself from the surface, Arthur lying there under the light with an uncertain expression on his face. Is Cliff coming back? Should Arthur look for means of escape?

The alpha returns within moments, a long piece of thin twine in his hands. He moves closer to Arthur, a smirk on his face as he swiftly lifts Arthur’s shaft, easily wrapping the twine around twice and tying a tight knot into it. The omega whines, shifting his legs as this all happens. It hurts, but in almost the best way. There’s definitely a sting from how tight the twine is, but it’s nothing damaging, so he doesn’t complain at all and simply tightens the muscles there, feeling the sensation as it restricts him from doing much.

“Good, now we’re gettin’ somewhere.” The end of the rope is tossed aside, the bit of it used and the rest forgotten and now lying beside Arthur. “You like that, Omega?” Arthur tenses again, remembering another moment with Dutch. He’d said the same thing. He shuts his eyes tightly, trying to get the image of Dutch to stay in his mind, not be replaced by this alpha. He’s not too horrible looking, but in comparison to Dutch, he’s nothing but the gravel Arthur walks on. “Feel good?” Arthur looks up at Cliff, slowly nodding and shutting his eyes again. He arches when he feels a shock of heat pain run through him, groaning out.

The alpha leans down and looks at Arthur, the omega swallowing thickly and opening his eyes to see the man. He can tell the rut is finally getting to the alpha, and it likely won’t be long before Arthur finally gets what his body is craving.

The alpha moves to the lowermost part of the wooden surface, pulling himself up onto it. The alpha’s knees scrape against the wood a bit in his haste to approach, but the man doesn’t seem to care as he growls and surveys the omega below him, completely forced into submission. Arthur’s thighs are forced to part. Dutch, Arthur thinks, would find it completely revolting, but this man clearly does not, with the eyes trailing over him and surveying him like he’s a piece of meat to soon be devoured.

“Gonna fuck the heat outta ya.” Cliff slurs, dipping down and catching Arthur’s neck in between his teeth. He bites down near the jawline and far from where he’d actually be mating Arthur, but the omega completely freezes anyway. One wrong move and he could be chained to this man for the rest of his life. One wrong word, and this man could cause him to regret ever submitting, as if he’d ever had a choice in this situation. One wrong flinch and this man could mate him for life. “Wass’ the matter, Omega? Cat got’cher tongue?”

“N-no…” Arthur stutters, trying not to move at all. The alpha pulls away and Arthur loosens a bit when he feels that mouth exploring his body. He feels teeth digging into the skin in several places, but none of them hurt as much as the idea of being mated.

Arthur hadn’t noticed the loud sound of the buckle on Cliff’s belt falling off the side of the wooden surface until it was too late, crying out in pain as the alpha shoves himself in. Arthur’s legs fly closed, hands in tight fists as he tries to pull them down and force the alpha away. Jesus, it hurts like nothing he’s ever experienced before. He can only begin to wonder what it would be like without the heat.

“Inn’t that nice, Omega?” Cliff sets a vicious pace, Arthur’s eyes tightly shut and face covered with an expression of excruciating pain. “Finally havin’ that heat satisfied?” Arthur wants to shout that no, it’s not nice, and no, his heat is not being satisfied. The only thing he feels is the tight twine around his length and the brutal pace of the alpha intruding repeatedly. He opens his eyes suddenly when he feels the back of Cliff’s hand swat across his face. “I asked you a question!”

“Ye-yes!” Arthur answers, lying. He feels his eyes beginning to water as he shuts them again. He wills himself not to let them fall, not to let this man get the best of him, but with the pain in his lower half, it’s almost inevitable. Not to mention the slowly worsening pressure on his wrists from trying to work them loose. The palm of the alpha’s hand is thrown against Arthur’s chest and he howls out in pain again.

“Yes,  _ what _ , you pitiful thing!” Arthur feels the salty tears beginning to run down the sides of his face, dripping almost into his ears from how hard he’s being rocked against the wooden surface. If it weren’t for the pain lower in his body, he’d be worried for the burn he’s likely going to feel soon, if not the splinters, but he’s not worried about that. He’s worried about if he’ll ever be able to walk again without a limp due to this man’s cruel pace right off the bat.

“Yes, s-sir!” He feels conditioned from the alpha’s obvious and overwhelming urge to be dominant, that this man would love to be called a name like this. It’s a privilege, though most alphas believe it to be a right. And in some lights, it is. Especially in this kind of a situation, where Arthur is likely bleeding at this point, though he can’t tell from the warmth of the slick coating Cliff’s cock. Perhaps he’s bleeding everywhere, but he wouldn’t know.

“That’s damn right!” Cliff shouts at him before his breath begins to catch up with his movements. His hips stutter for a brief moment and Arthur tenses a bit, causing a great deal of pain to strike through him, and attempts to loosen the muscles. He’s still being rocked harshly across the wood, raking his back against the surface like a match. Perhaps he’ll light on fire, and he’ll die now before he has to take this man’s knot.

The knot! How could Arthur have gone so ridiculously braindead? He cries out louder than he had before, lifting his legs as best as he can and trying to push the bastard away. Cliff growls and stays persistent, harshly biting into the calf of one leg. Arthur gasps out, tugging the limb away from the alpha’s mouth and subtly whimpering. He coughs, chest heaving as his breathing tries to keep up with the movements and everything going on inside.

Perhaps he’ll have a heart attack now, and die early. Maybe he’ll take the easy way out, and he won’t have to will it upon himself to fire a bullet into his brain. He’ll let another man set him on fire or force him to lose breath enough to suffocate.

“Fuck,” the alpha hums, hips slowing to a pace at which Arthur wishes he’d speed up again. None of this has become pleasure, and all he feels is pain. At least at a faster pace, it was more like a steady pulse, and thus easier to manage mentally, than slowly dragging a stake through his chest over and over like it is now.

Arthur feels a pool of warmth fill him and he wants nothing more than to rip himself away from this man, but his face is silently coated with a fresh trail of thankful tears when Cliff pulls out and steps away from the wooden surface before the knot can form. Arthur is left there alone for several moments, likely bleeding, and staring blankly at the ceiling. What is he supposed to feel in this moment? Grief? Sadness? Anger? At least, he supposes, his heat will subside with the thick substance warming his insides in the most horrible of ways. He won’t need the alpha again, and with the alpha’s knot, he’ll likely end his rut as well. There will be no reason to do this again and find out what it feels like to truly be without any preparation whatsoever.

Arthur begins to silently sob. His chest bounces as he feels them slowly wreak havoc on his lungs, but this is hardly anything compared to pain in the rest of his body. He wants Dutch. Wants to be near Dutch, to know he’s safe under a watchful alpha’s arm, but he knows this will never happen. He’d likely gotten all he could in the week he did, and most of it, he spent sulking away from the man. Why had he done this to himself? Tortured himself, only to be tortured further?

Perhaps Dutch isn’t coming, Arthur thinks. Forgot about Arthur, or doesn’t care enough to go venturing off after him. Clearly he’d been worthless enough to forget and allow to be taken in the first place, but now without Arthur in Dutch’s sights, the alpha would likely forget him within the next few days. He’s worthless; meaningless to any alpha, save for this one who has seemingly abandoned him now, to lie under this light for the rest of his pitiful existence.

This recognition is obvious, but Arthur still can’t help but want Dutch’s arms around him. He wants to feel safe. He wants to be far from this place and being gently loved by an alpha. He’s never been loved by one, and he doesn’t expect to be, but he still craves it. Mary, a beta, had said she loved him, but he doubts it. If she loved him, she would’ve stayed. Even if they couldn’t have children, she would’ve stayed.

Arthur’s throat makes funny noises as he slowly chokes in his sorrow. He sobs, feeling the thick tears running down his cheeks. This is what he’s become. A simple fuck-toy for an alpha who cares all too little.

“Don’t fall asleep, now. You ain’t done.” Cliff is heard off to his right, rather far from the sound. Arthur doesn’t care to open his eyes more than to stare at the light above him, but regrets it thoroughly when he feels a blazing token pressed against his outer right leg. It’s just below his hip bone and right above his thigh, but he knows exactly what it is moments after it touches his skin. There’s a satisfying sizzle as it boils Arthur’s flesh and he cries out in agony, writhing. It cools quickly and the alpha removes the branding iron. He brushes a thumb over it as he views the symbol quickly turning pink, causing Arthur to tense and let out a pathetic whimper. He makes quick work of the twine, untying it and tossing it over his shoulder when it’s loose.

He looks at the omega for a few moments before turning and walking away. Arthur longs for Dutch still, wanting the man to suddenly burst in despite all of the damage already having been done. He likely doesn’t even know the worst of it, seeing as his back was scraped across the wood for as long as it was.

“You served your purpose, now go to sleep.”

And the light flickers out above him.


	10. A Strange Symbol

When Arthur wakes up again, not that he’d ever truly fallen out of consciousness due to the throbbing pains all over his body, he finds himself to be in the same room as before. The light is still off above him, but a bit of warm evening light is creeping in through a small window far above him. It’s impossible to reach from the floor where he is, otherwise he would have wondered if he could use it as a means of escape, but it seems even that plan is pointless.

He pulls his hand up to rub across his face, noticing immediately that his limbs are unshackled. He sets the arm back down and slowly lowers them, placing his hands firmly against the wooden surface. Pushing himself up, he feels his muscles trembling. He lets out a breath as his back stretches and irritates the burns there. He tries to move his legs closer to his body, but he finds a striking pain when he does. It’s unrelentlessly spread across his pelvis, and it shocks his entire lower half into staying still when he feels it. Hissing out through his teeth, he tries again. Moving slowly, he’s able to sit up with a painfully sore spine.

Waking up like this, he realises he’s gathered quite a bit of anger towards Dutch. The man had left him alone with no way of protecting himself, sick and with his heat enrapturing his brain. The man has yet to appear and save Arthur, and he’s likely being spiteful in his mannerisms. Maybe Dutch doesn’t care at all, and that’s why Arthur is now sitting here, half trembling from the memory of the night before.

Arthur drags a hand across the side of his face to wake himself up a bit more for him and think straighter, despite the thought of it waking his body up to the pain more. Looking around, he sees a door and a heavy lock on it. It’s likely got a key, which he’d have to snag from whomever comes in next, but he’s not against the idea. As long as he can escape and berate Dutch for leaving him, he’ll be alright with a bit more physical work.

He slowly moves himself towards the edge of the wooden platform, trying to keep his entire backside off of the surface. He doesn’t need any more raw skin than he has now. There’s a shattered mirror to the side and Arthur looks at it, intent to get there before his legs give out.

He feels his feet touch the floor and he pushes himself up, watching as his legs wobble beneath him. They feel like they’re almost disconnected from the rest of his body, not feeling the nerves on fire there anymore. Maybe his body will block out the rest of the pain soon, because as he takes a first step, his legs almost collapse underneath him. He catches a hanging chain with a weak grasp, still able to shakily hold himself up with it.

Arthur finds himself looking around only now, just to make sure Cliff isn’t around anymore. He doesn’t see any visual signs, but he does see a dark spot where his back had been lying just before. It’s a deep reddish-brown colour, signifying that Arthur had been bleeding at some point or another… He tries to ignore the thought as he trudges towards the mirror. His legs are far from stable under him, but he somehow makes it to the wall. He looks at himself, standing up a bit as he looks into a single complete section of the mirror.

There’s a face he doesn’t recognise there. A shattered and broken man, staring back at him. He frowns, disliking the expression which is returned to him. He turns a bit to his left, looking at his leg. There’s a bright red, puffy mark there, exactly where he remembers being branded. It’s getting exceedingly less painful as the minutes tick on, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less uncomfortable with the throbbing of his pulse in the wound.

Looking closer, he sees the shape of the letter ‘A’, fancied up with several dressy decorations and lines. It’s backwards in the mirror, but Arthur can tell what it is. He wonders if the alpha knew Arthur’s name somehow? Listened in on previous conversations before kidnapping him? Or perhaps it’s for something else, and he’s simply assuming something ridiculous.

He dares to run a finger over the swollen wound, hissing and tensing his leg when the pain lights a fire along the side of his leg. The movement causes the whole leg to hurt, his body tumbling to the floor. He catches himself just before the wound touches the floor, but he feels as the flesh on his back begins to sting from the quick movement. It feels absolutely terrible, and he fists his hands with it becoming almost too much to handle. He looks up at himself in the mirror, looking at the shattered and fragmented reflection tearing up and threatening to sob just in front of him.

“You’re a sad man, Arthur Morgan.” He croaks, glaring and harshly lowering his head for his palms to meet his eyes and harshly wipe away the tears. They streak along his face where he wiped them, and he looks again at the mirror. Maybe he could peel a shattered piece of glass from the fragmented image and jab it into his chest. Tear the flesh open and gore himself for the alpha to return to. Maybe Dutch would find him like that. He should write a note for who  _ should _ be his alpha, but is not. If Cliff hadn’t been so violent the night before, he might’ve considered staying and allowing them to mate. If he hadn’t been treated so horribly, he might’ve accepted this whole situation a bit easier.

Shakily, he lifts himself from the ground and turns around, looking over his shoulder at the rosy skin on his back. He can see his spine poking out between his back muscles, and if he weren’t so disgusted with the rawed flesh, he would’ve been disgusted by that. But he does see the discoloured flesh, the red of his own blood still painting him a disgusting shade of crimson-brown.

His arms slowly reach to pull out the bigger splinters, tears falling onto his outstretched knees as he does so and tries to keep himself from screaming. He’s unable to grab the smaller ones, so he gives up and simply looks at the reddened wood fragments now lying on the floor, then up at his back’s — bleeding once more — reflection again. He hears the sound of the chamber door open, but he doesn’t make an attempt to move or look in that direction. He wants to look away, never see the marred flesh on his back again, but his eyes are frozen on the horrifying painting adorning his back.

“You’re awake.” The alpha sounds displeased. Arthur watches Cliff’s reflection move closer in the mirror, but he still makes no movement to respond. There’s not much he can say, the man sees what he’s done to Arthur. The several marks that will likely never heal, no matter how much the skin hides them. “How’re we holdin’ up this mornin’?”

Arthur doesn’t reply, eyes still skimming the reflective surface for a sign of Arthur getting better. Of the situation getting better. Of Dutch appearing and saving him, despite how much the omega despises him for not appearing before all of this happened.

“Omega.” Arthur still doesn’t reply or pay attention to Cliff. He wants to think that if he ignores and ignores, the man will walk away and leave him be for a bit longer. He wants attention and company, but not from this beast of a man. He sees the man approach Arthur’s front, but he doesn’t see the hand coming down to strike him across the face until it’s too late. His head flies to the side, eyes shutting tightly as he falls back.

“I am talking to you!” Arthur looks up at him, hands holding his back from touching the floor as he stares with wide eyes up at Cliff.

“I-I didn’t hear you, I was off in my own world, I—”

“Bullshit you were!” The alpha backhands Arthur this time, sending his face in the opposite direction from the last impact. “I don’t respect liars!” the omega wants to reply that the man doesn’t respect anyone, but he keeps his quivering lip sealed. “ _ Now _ .” The alpha calms himself. “How are we holdin’ up this mornin’?” He reiterates, and Arthur has even less of a motivation to reply this time.

“Hurts,” Arthur simply replies, looking away. Anywhere but that face, which is not Dutch’s.

“You need somethin’ for it?” Arthur is not sure if this is a trick, but he takes the bait anyway. Something; anything to make this pain lessen, would help. He needs something to make it go away.

“Please?” He whimpers, hoping that the submissive gesture will cause the alpha to be little nicer. Luckily, Cliff nods and turns away, walking towards the door.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” And the door is slammed behind him. This causes Arthur to recognise the headache he has, slowly increasing in intensity with every pulse of blood into his brain. Then, of course it has to get worse, because Arthur’s nose begins to drip red. He’s glad he’s still nude and that there’s no shirt for him to stain, but he’s not very happy when it begins to drip into his mouth. He sits up suddenly, spluttering. He growls again in pain as his flesh feels like it’ll tear if he moves that quickly again.

Arthur wipes his mouth and his nose, shaking his arm to remove the blood from the back of his hand. It hardly works, but he feels a bit better. That is, until he looks into the mirror again and sees the red smear across his upper lip. He’s sure he’s absolutely tired of the colour red now. It’s ugly and doesn’t suit him, never has, and especially now, never will. He’ll never be able to see it the same way, and he’s not sure he wants to. It’s distasteful, and he’s not sure why it exists in general.

Cliff returns shortly as promised, carrying the piece of twine from last night, a bottle, and a syringe. Arthur furrows his eyebrows, not wanting to be restricted with that damned twine again. Not like that, after everything. His entire body hurts anyway, he doesn’t need something else on top of all of that. The alpha kneels and sets everything but the twine down, reaching for Arthur’s arm. The omega shies away and the alpha growls, twisting the rope into a loop and whipping it down against Arthur’s back. The omega screams out, shutting his eyes. Cliff watches as the blood spreads onto the rope, a smug smirk spreading onto his face.

Arthur thrusts his arm forward, Cliff taking the wrist and holding it in one spot until Arthur gets the hint to keep it up. He ties the twine tightly around Arthur’s upper arm, instructing for Arthur to hold it tight. The omega shakily reaches for the rope with his other hand, taking it and keeping it taut as he’s been told to. The alpha removes his hands and lifts the small bottle, unscrewing the lid and picking up the syringe.

“What is that?” Arthur asks, fearing whatever it is and why the alpha has a syringe so close to him.

“Little bit of a miracle cure.” Cliff says, watching as he pulls the stopper on the syringe back slowly with two fingers, stretching his palm and drawing the clear liquid through the needle.

“Opium?”

“Somethin’ like it.” Arthur panics. He’d only heard bad things about the effects of Opioids, and he doesn’t want to become an unfeeling pincushion if what he’s heard is true. “Hush up, now.”

“Heroin?” Arthur asks, still curious for his health’s sake. Maybe this will help with his sickness, as well, which is slowly moving further into his sinuses, but he honestly doesn’t want to find out at this point. The alpha growls and glares at Arthur, who whimpers in a fearful response. He knows now that he should really shut his mouth before he gets whipped again.

The skin on his forearm is flicked a few times with Cliff’s finger before the needle is inserted into his arm. He tries not to tense, teeth gritting instead as the liquid is pushed into his vein. The twine is slowly released from his arm as the alpha releases it, pulling the syringe out and wiping it on his shirt. Arthur looks at his arm, watching as the blood starts to rise to the surface. Yet another wound, but this one is supposed to help him.

“Hungry?” The alpha asks, to which Arthur slowly nods. Finally this man is being kind and courteous, he thinks, but that thought quickly comes to a stop when the man stands and begins to pull at his belt. Arthur jolts.

“Never mind, I think I can wait a little while longer…”

“Nonsense. You need to eat, you’re thin as it is. Gotta build you back up somehow, don’t I?”

“Sure, but I’m not really—” Arthur is backhanded again and he slowly lifts his hand to touch the place where he’s been hit several times in the past day or two. Now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure how long he’s been here. He could judge easily by the fresh wounds on his back that it’d only been overnight this last time, but before, he’s not even sure he knows what day it is. The idea is completely shaken from his mind when Cliff shoves his length in Arthur’s face.

“Go on.” The omega doesn’t see what choice he has, but he still hesitates as he looks up at the alpha with pleading eyes. He can’t do this, won’t allow himself to. But he does. The alpha’s hands fly to the back of Arthur’s head several times, fingers digging into the omega’s scalp more often than not and forcing the foreign taste deeper into Arthur’s throat. He despises it. Despises what he knows will arrive at the end, and despises it even more when it does.

He gags at the taste, swallowing it as Cliff holds his jaw shut. He swallows and watches as the alpha gathers his things and leaves him there. Alone again, thankfully, but all the more sad. At the very least, he can feel the pain starting to alleviate from some of the main areas, and he’s extremely thankful for that.

He pushes himself up, albeit slowly, and trudges towards the main wooden surface he is now visualising as a bed. The wood will definitely only hurt his back at this point, so he curls up on his side and lies there alone. It’s dark in the room now, but he doesn’t really mind it. At least with his eyes closed, it’s harder to think about the issues truly causing his turmoil at the moment. Dutch will come. He’ll save Arthur.

He pushes himself up, albeit slowly, and trudges towards the main wooden surface he is now visualising as a bed. The wood will definitely only hurt his back at this point, so he curls up on his left side and lies there alone. It’s dark in the room now, but he doesn’t really mind it. At least with his eyes closed, it’s harder to think about the issues truly causing his turmoil at the moment. Dutch will come. He’ll save Arthur.

Won’t he?

 

* * *

 

Six weeks pass.

It’s not pretty, nor is it romantic or happy, but Arthur slowly learns more and more about Cliff. Where he sets the key for the door when he enters, to be precise. When the man works, and when he arrives to greet Arthur with a common “dinner”, as Arthur has slowly begun to get used to. It’s still horrible and he hates the thought of it, but he’ll do it as long as Cliff leaves him alone afterwards, and he usually does.

Arthur sits alone most days, but he’s settled on the fact that Dutch will not rescue him. Won’t be his knight in shining armour, be it because of the man’s pride, or the man’s lack of respect for the omega.

He adornes new bruises. Black eyes on both sides along with dark marks along his lower cheeks and along his jaw. He simply can’t keep his mouth shut, and doesn’t trust the alpha enough to blindly follow orders without asking questions first. So he gets hit.

At least his back has healed by now. The scarring is obvious, but it’s usually ignored. Arthur tries to avoid mirrors, especially after seeing himself on the second day. When he bleeds, he doesn’t look at the mirror. He can’t see himself in the same light since that day, especially when he’s watching his ribs slowly appear more and more. He’s been a lot more tired the last two weeks, but he tries to ignore it. He’s sure it’s just his body getting more and more exhausted with healing over and over.

Every three or four days, he’s been dragged to a different room and thrown into a bathtub, then forced to wait for Cliff to toss a bucket of water on him. By the time it reaches him and he is dried off, he’s usually shivering. In the recent weeks, he’s been moving closer to Cliff when he dries Arthur off. He’s desperate, needing affection. It’d been much easier to avoid it when he wasn’t constantly being used, but now? He can’t stop thinking about those hands on him. It would be a lie to say he’s not thinking about Dutch, but they feel nice anyway.

Cliff shoves him away every time, keeping him at an arm’s length when he tries to move closer. Arthur keeps himself from whining every time, but the alpha can clearly tell most times. He hugs Arthur closer for just a moment, showing just a tiny bit of heart for the omega, who gladly smiles and begins to purr, then he’s pushed away. Arthur is happy with the little he gets, considering that it is all he gets, but he still silently craves more. Craves Dutch.

And now, he’s sitting with his back against the wall and quietly humming campfire songs to himself. He’s gone stir crazy, wanting any excitement he can get. And he sure gets it.

“Arthur,” Cliff drunkenly purrs from the doorway as he tosses the key on the rack, the omega pushing himself to his feet and silently approaching. He drops to his knees, looking up at the alpha with a neutral expression. The man is holding a bottle of beer in his hand, and Arthur immediately takes this into consideration. If he were to simply let his guard down… “Lie down, nice and pretty for me.” Arthur slowly nods, moving to wander towards the wooden surface he calls his bed.

Lying back, he watches as Cliff slowly approaches. The man’s eyes are glazed over and he’s stumbling, clearly too far gone to be viable. Arthur gets an idea. He smirks a bit with the plan.

“Hold on,” he purrs, lifting himself back up and walking his fingers along Cliff’s arm. “Can I take care of you?” The alpha’s face gathers that of smug confidence and he nods. “You lie down, I’ll take it from there, alright?”

“Sure.” The alpha sets the bottle down beside his head as he lies down, Arthur climbing on over him. He takes a moment to slowly grind down on Cliff before slowly reaching for the bottle and smashing it over the alpha’s head. The glass shatters and Arthur grins, turning the sharp end of the bottle and jamming it into Cliff’s throat. He’s sure to twist it before letting go, leaving the blood to splatter a bit more. He stares at the man, climbing off and nodding when he finally realises that he’s done it. He can finally go.

Arthur takes a breath, stabilising himself. He can’t remove his eyes. His gaze is stuck on the fountain of red, and he can’t help the pang of nausea smacking him across the face. It’s disgusting. Arthur swallows a thick sense of dread, closing his eyes and turning away. He focuses on the promise of returning to Dutch.

Pulling the key down from its spot, he shoves it into the lock and pulls the door open. He’s quick to search the halls for his clothes, not caring about how clean he is, or how clean they are. He finds them sitting on a kitchen counter and he smiles. Finally something coming easy to him. Dragging the clothes on, he smiles. It may only be his imagination, but he still smells Dutch’s scent on the coat. He misses the man more than anything else.

Arthur heads to several different rooms, opening and closing them until he finds a bedroom. The man seems to keep his money hidden somewhere, and wherever it is, Arthur will find it. He’ll take a stagecoach out to Annesburg and find a horse there, snag it and ride back up to that house. Searching rapidly, he feels as if he’s pressured for time. He’s likely not, no one cares to have talked to Cliff. He gave everyone a terrible feeling when they neared him, and that included Arthur.

He tugs open a drawer and finds a large wad of cash, gasping and smiling. This will absolutely do. Counting through just a few bills, he finds that there is at least five hundred here, if not more. There’s a revolver lying just beneath it. Shoving the cash and weapon into his coat pocket, he leaves the room again. Even if the gun isn’t loaded, an armed omega is a hell of a lot more intimidating than one with absolutely nothing to defend himself with.

Arthur looks around briefly in the kitchen again but finds little to nothing for food, sighing and making his way out with a small bundle of three bread rolls. He’d seen the front door before while being taken to the washroom, despite Cliff’s best efforts. Really, he’d never known how experienced the alpha was with this. In some ways, he’d been clearly prepared, but in others, he’d completely failed in keeping Arthur contained. No hard feelings, though, because Arthur got his revenge in the end regardless.

Stepping out onto the street with a roll in between his teeth, he sees people riding by. This is clearly Saint Denis, which doesn’t surprise him at all, but it also means he can find his way back to camp easily. All he has to find is a post office…

“‘Scuse me, sir?” Arthur slowly approaches after swallowing a mouthful of bread. A beta turns around to look at him, clearly uptight and properly disgusted by the image of Arthur standing before him. Maybe it’s the bruises and black eyes, but his face softens after just a moment. Likely an Englishman.

“Yes?” Definitely English.

“I— well, I don’t know my way around here, could you point me in the direction of the post office?” Arthur speaks slowly to enunciate his words more, his energy tanking. The Englishman takes a second and nods, lifting a gloved hand and pointing down a street.

“Take a left there, then head straight down that road. Should end up there sooner or later.” Arthur’s not sure whether or not to take his words lightly but does anyway, smiling a bit and waving. He takes another bite, letting out a sigh. Heading in that direction, he tries not to drag his feet. He’s still worried those alphas are out here, ready to pounce and take him all at once. The idea brings a sour look to the omega’s face and he scowls, seeing several others step away from him with such an upset expression.

As he walks, he can’t help but take in the scenery. While it is definitely a change, it’s not all that different, he supposes. The roads are just paved and there are easier ways to get to things. It’s still horrid and ridiculously simplifying everything, but he can see how it adds a romantic ideal to the Western world.

By the time he gets to the post office, he’s scarfed down all three of the bread rolls to keep his energy. It’s not going to do much for his overwhelming hunger, but at the very least, it’s a step in the right direction.

Approaching the station, he sees the signs outside and slowly tread closer. A man somehow appears behind him and nearly frightens him half to death when he speaks.

“Hello sir!” Arthur jolts. “Looking for a ride?” He looks over his shoulder, slowly nodding. The man seems friendly enough. A beta, from the way he holds himself. Likely wishing to get into someone’s pants, but exactly no part of Arthur plans on allowing him this access.

“I am.” Arthur nods.

“Where to?”

“Annesburg.”

“Annesburg? Quite the ways! Runnin’ from your wrongs?” Arthur gulps nervously. What if this man is in on it, knows about his escape and is only going to kidnap him again, then the man claps a hand down on his shoulder. “I’m just messin’ with ya! Lighten up a bit, my friend!” Arthur lets out a breath, though doesn’t completely relax. “Hop on into Ol’ Reliable here, and we’ll getcha there in no-time!” The beta gestures towards a wagon, definitely having seen its better days years ago.

“Thank you,” Arthur offers, and the man smiles kindly in response.

“Most I could do for a pretty face like yours.” Arthur nods a bit and lowers his head, slowly pulling himself into the back of the carriage as soon as the man opens the door for him. The door is shut again moments later and Arthur hears as the man clambers up onto the seat, then cracks the reins.

He relaxes against the seat somehow, leaning his head back. Maybe it’s the gun in his pocket keeping his mind at ease, whether it’s actually loaded or not. When he reaches the house, he’ll walk up to Dutch and just let the alpha hold him. Sink into that warming embrace from the slightly shorter man, and allow himself to finally decompress after almost two months. Kiss those lips and enjoy the scruff of Dutch’s mustache against his top lip as it mingles with his own stubble. He wants nothing more than to be in those arms at the moment, but he’s killed to get to this point, so he’s more than glad.

With his hand folded around the gun in his pocket, Arthur finally finds peace in the back of this stagecoach, driven by someone he doesn’t know in the slightest.


	11. A Nauseating Time

It’s a few hours later when Arthur wakes up again, rocked heavily back and forth as they ride over a bit more terrain than expected. However, Arthur finds himself feeling extremely affected by this, calling out to the driver to stop. He hops out and moves a few few away to lean his hand against a tree before retching violently into the grass. The driver looks over to see Arthur, worriedly hopping down and rushing over. He places his hand on Arthur’s back, apologising repeatedly for how much movement there is in the box, but he can’t control it. Arthur tries to wave his apologies off a few times, but it doesn’t work and he eventually just groans and accepts the man talking his ear off about how wheels work, or whatever. Arthur’s mind is spinning.

He holds onto the tree as he retches again, tensing and ending up dry-heaving more than anything else. There’s nothing left in his stomach to toss. His arms shake as he stands, taking deep breaths. The driver pulls a cloth from his coat pocket, gently wiping it across Arthur’s lips. He tosses the thing aside, not caring much for it as it would only spread the smell in the box if Arthur took it, yadda yadda, as Arthur hears when the man explains. Halfway through his talking, Arthur feels a bit better and nods, waving to him and pointing back at the car.

“Really, sir?”

“Sure.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“We can wait a few more minutes—”

“Get up there and get me to Annesburg.” The beta blinks and takes a moment to think, then nods, moving back to his seat. Arthur pulls himself into the back again and shuts the door, breathing heavy as to dispel the nausea still stirring in his stomach despite the lack of food to remove from his system.

He’s lucky when he falls asleep again, the exhaustion getting to him now more than ever, with his stomach empty after being so full.

Arthur’s sleep is less than peaceful, with his mind conjuring up a ridiculous “dream” where everything goes topsy-turvy and the world is rocking back and forth with the box of the stage. He tries to find his footing in the dream, only to stumble and fall like he had multiple times on stable ground, with injured and pained legs. The memory is what wakes him again, his mind slowly joining after a few moments. He blinks and looks around, finding the box to be somewhat stopped, and the busy sound of a train riding by.

The omega sits up slowly, scooting towards one of the doors. He stands up when he can see the ground, glad this time that it’s not for him to vomit off the side of the road just a bit earlier.

“You got money?” The driver asks, and Arthur jolts again, not seeing him.

“Quit doin’ that.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“How much you want?”

“Five dollars.” Arthur cringes at the price but understands, slowly fishing a ten out of his pocket from the wad he would rather not reveal to the public. At this rate, he guesses, he could buy himself a horse to ride back with, but he almost wants the thrill of the chase more than the idea of a new horse; a new bonding experience. He hands the amount over and the beta smiles, thanking him kindly. “Jus’ bring yourself on over to Saint Denis if ya’ need a ride, or just a friend to talk to.”

“Thank you,” Arthur smiles a bit, waving slowly to the man as he hops back up and departs again. The omega stands there and glances around, looking specifically for stray horses. He finds a few outside of a gun shop and slowly approaches, carefully looking into the window for anyone to see him. Keeping low, he unties the reins on one and pulls the horse away. He quiets the mare with a gentle pat and a few soothing words, then leads her away and pulls himself up onto her back when he’s far enough away from the shop. Snapping the reins, he holds on tight and rides with the saddle as it bounces underneath him. His feet find the stirrups and he leans a bit further to keep with the horse’s movements.

It doesn’t take long to find a familiar path and a steady pace, but Arthur feels sick again almost immediately after finding it. Maybe he should’ve drank or ate something, he thinks, but the nausea gets to him faster than he expects, and he has to take a deep breath to keep himself settled for just a moment longer. He tugs harshly on the reins, lugging his leg over the horse’s back and landing on the ground. He drops to his knees in the dirt, fingers curling and gathering it under his fingernails. He retches again, coughing and tearing up as the feeling tears through his throat. It burns, meaning that it’s likely only stomach acid, but that doesn’t make him feel any less empty when he leans back into a sit to breathe for a second.

The horse has trotted off a little ways, so Arthur gently whistles to get its attention. It looks back at the omega and wanders over, Arthur using the saddle to pull himself up. Slowly swinging his leg over the horse’s back, he takes a few shaky breaths and makes sure he’s alright. He needs to eat something despite his stomach forcing everything, even what little he’s had to eat today, out, he knows that for sure. The shaking is more from low blood sugar than the shock of the situation, though that is certainly an addition to it.

Gathering himself again, he finds his body starting to shut down. It’s exhausted, and his mind is even more-so. The fresh air is definitely helping, but the cramps from an empty stomach are not being soothed so simply by a bit of breathing.

Arthur recognises the area through his half-lidded eyes, the trees familiar. The area, from what he remembers, is fairly close to the house. He hopes they’re still there, and they haven’t left, seeing as they’re all apparently a gang. Or maybe they aren’t? He can’t remember whether or not that has been settled. Six weeks has surely killed his mind.

Just a few minutes later, he sees the silhouette of the house. Nearing it, he gently calls out for Tilly, whom he sees standing next to a carriage and loading it with something. The omega looks over and gasps, waving a few others over to help as Arthur sways a bit on the horse. She and several others Arthur can’t recognise rush over, gently pulling him from the horse and draping his arms over their shoulders. He’s incredibly lightweight, not a surprise with the obviously smaller frame. Maybe now he’ll look more like a proper omega, he wonders, as he sees Hosea rush over. His feet slowly drag against the ground as he’s half-carried towards the beta.

“Arthur!” He shouts, cupping the omega’s bruised cheek. “What on earth happened to you?” The thumbs on his hands drift over the dark skin around Arthur’s eyes. Several others surround the omega, worriedly asking questions, hugging him, and prodding at his lithe frame.

“Where’s…” Arthur starts. “Dutch?” He looks to Hosea, who takes a beat to turn and gesture towards the house. There Dutch stands with his arms crossed, speaking with Susan, not paying attention to the mob surrounding Arthur. Hosea gently tugs on Arthur’s arm and rescues him from the noise and blabber of the others, leading him towards Dutch. Susan’s eyes meet Arthur’s and they look for just a brief moment before she says one more thing and turns into the house to obviously avoid the omega.

“Arthur.” Dutch sees him, approaching to stop the omega from having to walk too far further. Arthur looks up at him, waiting for him to tug the omega closer, to be overwhelmingly happy that he’s alive, he’s safe, and he’s back. But he doesn’t. “I’m glad you’re alright. Gave us quite a scare.” The omega looks up at him for a moment before his mind snaps. He stops looking pitiful, his face changing to one of anger. Reaching forward, he shoves Dutch back.

“You left me there. You were gonna let me  _ die _ there!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Arthur—“

“Shut up!” The omega’s voice breaks obviously. “I waited. I thought you would—“ Arthur cuts himself off. “Way you look at me says you tried, but I know you didn’t. I know your type.”

“Arthur, I really don’t have time for this…”

“I don’t give a shit!” Arthur barks, snarling. He’s beyond livid. “The things I had to go through while I waited!”

“Arthur.” Dutch growls, but the omega has gotten far too used to the alpha voice. It doesn’t affect him like it used to, and he opens his mouth to continue yelling, taking a breath. Dutch simply raises his hand, bringing it sharply across Arthur’s face. The omega steps back in surprise, holding his cheek. Another bruise to add to the other side of his face, only, from Dutch this time. “I don’t have  _ time _ for this. None of us do.” Arthur backs up, running into Hosea on accident, who gently places his hands on Arthur’s shoulders to keep him in place while the beta steps beside him. He stares at Dutch, a look of a completely broken heart on his face. This man, for whom he’d been waiting at the gates to hell, has just brought his hand down on Arthur.

“Why don’t you.” Arthur quietly responds, looking at the ground and standing up straight. He’s not weak. That didn’t hurt him. Nothing can anymore.

“We’ve got a train to rob, and if we want to get there any time soon, we’ll need to get going  _ now. _ ” Arthur nods, then touches his face again and gently laughs while he sucks in a breath through his teeth to keep the tears coating his eyes, out of Dutch’s sight.

“You get on that, then. I’ll see you when you all get back.”

“What exactly  _ do _ you mean, Arthur?” Dutch steps closer with only a slit of his eyes visible, and Arthur stands his ground, puffing out his chest a bit.

“I’ll stay here. Look over the place.”

“We need everyone we can get, son. You’re coming along.”

“Seemed to have enough when you didn’t know I was still alive, Dutch.”

“Well, any extra help is appreciated.” Dutch cocks his head to the side a bit, standing with more weight on one foot than the other, the hand on his hip pushing back his overcoat.

“I won’t come with you.” The alpha glares, reaching forward for the collar of Arthur’s coat. The omega moves quickly for the revolver in his pocket, pointing it directly at Dutch’s forehead when he feels it safely in his grasp. The man steps back a bit, not expecting the quick-draw on this man. “Get away from me.” Arthur glares, marching angrily past him and towards the house.

Dutch stands there confused and surprised, looking to Hosea who only shakes his head at Dutch and follows Arthur into the house a few paces behind. He stares at the back of this beta who has been by his side for a huge amount of his life, almost taking Arthur’s side. Maybe he’s going up there to talk Arthur into it? No one else seems able to at this point, especially not Dutch. He’s gotten exceedingly more violent over the weeks, but he hadn’t noticed it until just now with his hand hitting Arthur so hard. Something about it just rubbed Dutch wrong, despite it being to assert dominance over the omega, and he only wants to apologise now. See the tired smile in those beautiful blue eyes, which he has missed since they suddenly disappeared a month and a half ago.

Looking up at the window to Arthur’s room, he sees the omega frustratedly move into the room and shut the door behind Hosea.

“I don’t understand,” Arthur croaks, his voice low and breaking from the pure emotion inside. “Why…”

“He missed you, Arthur.”

“Fooled me.”

“You need to get a grip on yourself, Arthur. You’re being ridiculous, he—”

“He hit me, Hosea!” Arthur barks, eyes red from the tears trying to fall, but Arthur is keeping back. “He— did he see my face? How beat up I am already? Why does he want to add to my pain?”

“He wasn’t thinking, he’s been angry since you disappeared.”

“Then he should be happy for my return, right? Happy that I’m alive?” Arthur feels his chest heave and he lets out a heavy sob. “Happy I escaped without him?”

“Arthur,” Hosea places his hands on the omega’s shoulders, hugging him close. He clearly needs it, after being gone for six weeks with likely little affection. “Calm down. It’s alright… he’s stressed. We’ve been planning this job for a few weeks, trying to figure everything out.”

“What am I supposed to do.” Arthur clings to Hosea.

“Try not to get into fights, alright? Come with us. We really do need more hands on-deck.” Arthur thinks about it, sighing. He doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to waste more energy that he doesn’t have.

“Alright… what’s the plan?”

“We’ll head to town today. Get there this evening, and find an inn for a few of us to stay in, the rest can camp out in one of the wagons.”

“How long will we be gone?”

“Few days, maybe?” Arthur quietly nods, looking out the window. Dutch is still standing there, his arms crossed over his chest as he speaks to Micah. The others are tossing a few perishables into the back of a wagon, and some are bringing their own bags for the few days.

Arthur remembers that just a few days longer in that place, he would’ve been there for a seventh week. He scowls at the thought, not wanting to fathom that place anymore. It was a horrible experience, and he wishes he didn’t have the scars to remind him. At the very least, they’re on his back, but his bruises will be a constant reminder until they heal as well. Not to mention the branding, whatever the symbol may be. That will certainly not go away, no matter what he does to push it.

“You comin’ then?” Hosea steps up beside him, watching as Dutch glances back over his shoulder to look Arthur in the eyes for a moment. Arthur nods, and Dutch smiles a little as he returns to his conversation. “I’m glad.” The beta places his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and points for the door, the omega following behind. He wanders out after Hosea, approaching Dutch.

“I assume that little nod was to say that you’re coming along?”

“Sure.” Arthur looks at Dutch’s feet, not wanting to say something out of place again and risk that hand coming in contact with his face. It does and Arthur flinches away from the finger curled under his chin as he watches Dutch wave Hosea away from the pair of them. Dutch gently tilts Arthur’s head up, and he looks into those caramel eyes again after so long. He melts.

“Arthur,” Dutch sighs. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Hosea told me.” The alpha pulls him close, arms snug around Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur pauses and then hugs back, smiling widely. It’s the biggest smile he’s had on his face for several years at least, and it feels amazing to finally let his lips spread into such a happy grin. Dutch’s arms are warm and comforting, and he melts all over again when Dutch places his head against the side of Arthur’s. The omega’s throat shifts to allow a purr to sound from his chest, the alpha smiling when he hears it.

“What happened, Arthur?”

“Happened?” Arthur is still purring before he speaks, then he realises what Dutch is talking about. “Oh.” He clears his throat, pulling himself away and looking at the man standing just before him. “Can we talk about it when we’re alone?” Dutch slowly nods, looking up just a slight bit to meet his eyes.

“We’ll ride together.”

“Sounds like a plan…” Arthur drifts off, the nausea from earlier catching up to him. He sucks in a sharp breath, reaching to place a hand on Dutch’s shoulder. “I’ll catch up to you in a few minutes.”

“Arthur?”

“Haven’t eaten much recently, is all. Feel a little sick.” Dutch sighs and gently brushes his thumb across Arthur’s cheekbone.

“We’ll get you somethin’ to eat before we get there, alright?” Arthur nods and steps away, leaning heavily against a wagon. He coughs and covers his mouth as his body tenses and tries to push nothing out. He trembles against the tensing of his stomach, tears surfacing from the burn in his throat. Dutch walks closer, placing his hand softly against Arthur’s back to soothe him. Surprisingly, the touch makes him feel much better almost immediately, and he slowly stands. “Maybe sooner rather than later.”

“No, I don’t want to end up sick on the road.”

“Arthur, you need to eat something.” The omega nods.

“We can wait until we get there.” Dutch takes a moment and finally nods. At least Arthur is accepting the proposition of eating at all. The alpha leads Arthur to one of the carriages, showing him the door and allowing him to climb in. Dutch waits for him to get in before shouting over his shoulder for the others to ready themselves. He tugs himself up into the box, shutting the door and sitting down beside Arthur. The carriage rocks as a couple others clamber up onto the seat in front, Arthur looking up at Dutch to say something first.

“Missed you a lot.” The alpha sighs as soon as he hears the reins smack against the backs of the horses. Arthur smiles a bit, looking away and slightly leaning against Dutch.

“Missed you a lot, too.”

“And about the whole thing before you left, I didn’t—“

“I don’t remember much from before I was gone.” Dutch frowns.

“Jesus. That damn alpha really do that much to you?”

“You knew it was him?” Arthur begins to worry that Dutch had known all along, looking up at him with a look of shock and fear.

“No, no. We found out after asking around a bit in town. Knocked on so many doors. Couldn’t find you after hearing that it was a bunch of alphas, but I knew exactly who they were after it happened.” Arthur remembers hearing a loud knock at the door when Cliff had been touching and drawing pained screams out of Arthur. When the man peeled himself away, grumbling, Arthur got a few moments of relief before the man returned full-force. Was that Dutch? Had he really, truly tried?

“Oh.” Arthur says, hands tucked into his pockets. “Yeah, he really did a lot to me.”

“Like what?” The omega cringes at the words. He doesn’t want to imagine everything again.

“Whipped me. Left me bleeding out most times. Got me addicted to morphine for a few days, but I knocked myself out of that pretty quick. Forced me to live nude. Branded me.” The alpha painfully nods until he hears the last part, furrowing his brows harshly and looking over to Arthur.

“Branded you, Arthur? With an iron?”

“Yep.”

“Why? Where? What did he put on you?”

“Pretty sure he only put it there for my name, but I dunno.” Arthur shifts, slowly unbuckling his belt and sliding the fabrics around his waist down. Dutch stares, wide-eyed at the mark. He asks permission before reaching out to touch the risen skin, Arthur nodding silently. It hurts a lot less now, but that doesn’t mean it’s completely gone quite yet. When Dutch touches it though, Arthur’s veins light on fire again. Something about those eyes on him, that pitying stare, makes him feel revolting; disgusting.

“Hester Prynne.” Dutch stares at it, and Arthur hums in confusion when the man says this. “Hester Prynne,” he repeats. “The Scarlet Letter.”

“I don’t follow.” Arthur says, trying to resist from moving away from those eyes on his skin, now marred and trashed with light scars everywhere. He’s ugly with the light marks all over his body; the rough patches where the skin didn’t heal quite right.

“It’s a book.” Dutch sees the discomfort in Arthur’s face and gently begins to tug Arthur’s pants back up. “Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote it. The ‘A’ means adulterer for the majority of the book, but at the end, it symbolises how Hester Prynne is able to rise above a title, and help others through their mistakes as well. The one thing I don’t understand…” Dutch furrows his brows again. “Why would he do this to you?”

“Didn’t ask for it, that’s for damn sure.” Arthur sarcastically comments, refastening his belt and settling back down against the seat, closer to Dutch this time. The alpha’s arm gently lies over Arthur’s shoulders, and he smiles a bit as he leans his head back against Dutch’s shoulder. He feels his throat twitching to shift its positioning again, and he lets out a soft purr after a few moments. Dutch’s smile returns and he looks back down at Arthur. There’s a strange scent about him, but that’s expected, with how long the poor omega has been kept within the grasp of another alpha.

Dutch begins to purr as well. They harmonise, and Arthur is quick to fall asleep with his exhausted body and the beautiful music to listen to. The alpha drags a few fingers through the omega’s hair, watching as it falls back against that beautiful face. He looks to be shaggy again, his hair not as long as when Dutch found him, but getting to be.

He still doesn’t understand why this alpha would brand Arthur permanently with this symbol. If anything, Arthur is far from an adulterer. He’s never been mated, and occasionally, Dutch can see why, but he also sees exactly why he should be mated. The man is gorgeous, his eyes perfectly compliment his slightly darker skin, and he has an air about him. One that makes Dutch want to pull him close and protect him from all possible harm. He knows this is not true in the slightest, but it’s still a nice idea.

Dutch watches as Arthur rests, a small smile on his face as he slowly falls asleep to the wonderful sounds dancing and spinning one another in the air. Maybe he should’ve tried harder, he thinks.

Maybe this would’ve arrived a bit sooner if he had.


	12. A Bump in the Road

Arthur wakes up to Dutch’s hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. He blinks and sits up as he looks around, tasting and feeling the dryness in his throat and mouth. Looking back at the alpha, he sees a gentle smile adorning that face. He wants to kiss the man. He’s right here, and the carriage is still moving, so he isn’t too worried about someone opening the door.

“We’re here,” Dutch says, running his fingers through Arthur’s hair. The omega closes his eyes and leans into the touch, eyes opening to be trained on Dutch’s lips. His tired gaze doesn’t move, but then he realises the whole retching thing, however long ago that was. He turns his head away from the temptation in order to avoid it. He wants to, oh how he wants to, but he also wants it to be a wonderful experience for Dutch, as well as himself. It should be good at the very least, despite his lack of recent practice.

“Feels like we’re still movin’,” Arthur says, to which Dutch laughs. It’s the sound of angels lowering themselves to linger briefly along the earth’s surface, for only a moment, before returning to their home.

“Yeah, well, we’ll be there in just a moment or so. Figured I’d wake you, lest you want me to carry you inside.” The idea plays hooky with Arthur’s mind, and Dutch can see it pretty obviously in those eyes as there’s a tiny bit of a wrinkle near the outer edges. A true smile surrounding that ocean of blue, he thinks, finally at low tide after being so high for so long. He’s proud that he’s the one bringing this smile to Arthur’s face. “You and I will share a room. I hope that’s alright with you? I hadn’t been planning for another. I can take the floor if you’d like.”

“That’s perfect. No need to sleep on the floor.” Arthur nods, leaning back against Dutch’s chest again. He opens his mouth a few times to listen as his tongue sticks dryly to his palette, yearning for something to drink. A little booze oughta bring him back up after all of that. Long as he takes it slow and only keeps himself a little tipsy, he’ll be able to eat as much as he wants.

“We’ll be going to the Rhodes Parlour House first to get everyone a warm meal before headin’ our separate ways.” Dutch’s fingers slowly wander along the back of Arthur’s neck and along his right shoulder, sliding down to his fingertips. “I’ll make sure you eat, Arthur. At least a little bit. I’ll be watchin’.”

“I’m sure you will, Dutch.” The wagon slowly comes to a stop and Arthur sits up to let Dutch hop out. The man’s boots touch the ground and he smiles, breathing in the air. It’s been a long, harsh winter, but spring is right around the corner, and Arthur can tell that Dutch much prefers the warmth over the cold. The alpha reaches his hand inside for Arthur, who takes it and slowly makes his way out of the wooden box. Dutch waves several others over, Arthur being able to see their faces after they near him a bit more.

There stand Abigail and Jack, followed closely by Sadie, Tilly, and another face Arthur doesn’t quite recognise. They carry luggage with them, meaning that they’re much more prepared than himself. He expects them to be the omegas, the weakest ones of the group, and he waves gently to them as Dutch climbs onto the back of the carriage they were in, unties a medium case from a small built-on shelf and drops back down to the ground. He gestures for the caravan to continue on to another spot to camp for the next few days, returning to the small group of omegas.

“Come along, then. Gotta get these rooms before they’re gone.” Dutch holds his case to the side, moving towards the building. Arthur tails everyone, fingers loosely pressed into the folds of his arms. Even with all of the hospitality at the very beginning, Arthur doesn’t feel like a very large part of the family. He feels as if he’s an outcast, and everyone is simply living with Dutch’s decision of picking up “yet another omega”.

Following everyone, he steps in last and to the side as to not hold the door open. Dutch is requesting three rooms, setting down a stack of cash to pay for them. The innkeeper points to his right for the washrooms, then to his left for the stairs up to the rooms. Dutch nods and thanks the man before silently waving for the others to follow along. He points at the doors as he walks down the hall, settling for Jack with his mother and the others together in another room. They step into their divided rooms and Dutch nods towards their door before opening it and stepping in. Arthur follows, hearing the door shut behind him.

“Get any money offa that alpha, Arthur?” Dutch asks, setting his case down on the floor beside the bed.

“I did.” Arthur nods, slowly pulling the wad of cash out of his pocket. Dutch turns around and his jaw drops, moving closer.

“Good God, what d’ya think he does to get this kinda pay?”

“Had an awful lot of morphine.” Dutch looks to Arthur for a moment, sliding his thumb across the bills as he folds them out and counts them.

“That’ll definitely do it.” He lands on the last and hands it back. “Got just under a thousand there, Arthur. Now, usually, I’d ask you to offer some for the tithing box, but considering that you have long past paid your dues, I’ll let you keep it. Use it wisely.” Dutch smiles, and Arthur returns the expression as he sets it back into his coat pocket.

“Got anythin’ you want to do before we head to the Parlour House?” Arthur’s stomach speaks for him, growling out at the promise of food for the first time in weeks. “Take that as a no, then.” Dutch grins and laughs a bit as he nears the door and pulls it open. He makes a show of it, stepping to the side and moving his arm to allow Arthur through. The omega snorts, moving through the doorway and down the hall a bit. Dutch can be heard knocking on the doors and telling the omegas that the two of them will be down at the parlour, and to meet them there whenever they’re available. Arthur turns towards the stairs, descending them and looking to the innkeeper, who is lazily leant against the desk.

“You know where the Parlour House is, par’ner?” Arthur leans a bit against it as well, the innkeeper pointing out the door.

“Straightaway an’ to the left.” Is all he says, and Arthur thanks him as he hears Dutch coming down the stairs. The alpha tosses his arm over Arthur’s shoulders and leads him out the door and across the street.

“Can you smell the fine dining yet, Arthur?” Dutch grins.

“Saloon food?”

“Sure enough! Finest food around, and paired with only the finest liqueur.” Dutch pronounces it funny and Arthur laughs at the way he spins his hand around to emphasise his fanciness. He pushes against the batwing doors, marching in and exchanging glances with a few of the other camp members having beat them here. They all have a glass of something or other in their hands already, but Arthur beelines for the counter to order for himself.

“What can I get for ya’?” The bartender asks, rubbing the rim of a glass with a cloth.

“What you got for food?” Arthur asks, and the man replies with a few options. Arthur, being as hungry as he is, asks for both, along with a simple glass of water. The man nods and Arthur hands over the money, leaning against the counter when the man says it’ll be ready soon. The glass is slid out to him within moments and Arthur almost downs it immediately. It feels wonderful on his dry throat, that’s a definite plus.

“You wandered off, Pillow Biter. Wondered where you been,” Arthur recognises Micah’s voice and immediately scowls. And he was having such a nice time, too. The omega just about snaps back in retort.

“Why don’t you go bother someone else that’s havin’ a nice time, Micah.” Arthur doesn’t look at him at first, but he expects that Micah has turned red at the ears again because he huffs and takes a moment to think of a response.

“Don’t know why Dutch let you keep yer tongue. All you’re useful for is bein’ a cockwarmer. Shouldn’t have’ta come with your sharp mouth.” Arthur simply shakes his head, glancing over to see Dutch, who is keeping his promise of watching, and winks at Arthur from across the room before returning to his conversation.

“Well, Micah, I think you should pick up your ego. It’s a bit too heavy for your shoulders; I think you should hand it off to someone tougher.” The beta harshly grabs at Arthur’s shirt collar and tugs him closer, growling in his face as the omega is lifted to stand straight.

“You say that shit to my face.”

“I’m sure you heard me, even though you’re up so high on that pedestal.”

“Big talk for someone with two black eyes.” Micah has taken a step too far at this point, Arthur’s smug grin quickly turning into a furious glare. Arthur lifts his knee quickly and is able to harshly jab it into Micah’s groin, causing the man to double over and let go. Arthur can hear Dutch laughing from the other side of the room, and it brings the smile back to his face. He looks over to see the alpha give him a thumbs-up, a bigger smile splitting onto his face. Micah frowns and trudges back to the standing table where Dutch and several others are lounging, the alpha still snickering when Micah approaches.

“Sir,” the bartender speaks, catching Arthur’s attention. Two plates are set out in front of him and he thanks the man, lifting them and attempting to walk away. Before he does, the man clears his throat and Arthur looks back. “No trouble tonight, got it?” And Arthur nods before turning and walking over to the table with Dutch and the others.

“ _Two_ meals, Arthur? Eatin’ for two?” Dutch laughs, and the others kick up in laughter as well, including Arthur. Micah more or less fakes a laugh, leant against the table and trying to keep the throbbing pain to himself.

“More or less, I suppose,” Arthur shrugs, not meaning much by it. The others continue in casual conversation as Arthur begins to eat, finding more of an appetite for the fish. It tastes amazing on his tongue, only being used to salty tastes for several weeks, then bread rolls, followed by bile. He doesn’t pay much mind to the thought for too much longer, not wanting to spoil his appetite with the memory of the taste.

He watches silently as the betas and alpha speak around him, Micah slowly becoming more of the conversation as he “heals” from his “wound”. Arthur leans heavily against the table, quiet. His appetite appears full-force and he takes more and more into his mouth, swallowing heavily when the others stop talking to look at him. Dutch cracks a grin and pats the omega on the back.

“Slow down a bit there, you might choke.”

“Wow, Dutch! I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that to an omega!” One of the several betas remarks, snickering with the others. Dutch shakes his head with a small smile, taking a breath to clear the tension clearly settling in on Arthur’s shoulders. He should be able to eat however the hell he wants after going through what he did, and it was not Dutch’s place to say that. He’ll make a point to apologise later.

Arthur slows down, excusing himself for a moment to order another glass of water. He returns shortly, looking at Dutch as he leans his elbows on the table and looks so fascinated in the topic, whatever it may be. The words sound more or less like jumbled sounds in Arthur’s brain as he stares at Dutch. He takes another bite, but his eyes only separate from this wonderful man for a moment before returning.

Then Dutch looks down, Arthur’s fork accidentally scraping against the plate. The omega apologises and stands, feeling the heavy weight of exhaustion pulling at his eyelids and muscles.

“Hey,” Arthur mutters to the alpha, who hums in response. “I think I’ll head back, now. I’m beat.” Dutch nods, lifting an arm and rubbing it softly across Arthur’s back. He leans down and whispers into Arthur’s ear as the other table occupants carry on a conversation.

“There’s a few other clothes in the case, if you want to wear them, just for something to change into.” The alpha smiles. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Don’t let me spook you when I walk in.” Arthur nods, almost wanting to wait for a peck on the forehead, but knows it isn’t coming when Dutch removes his hand and stands up straight again to continue talking to the others. He frowns a bit from this fact, but overall, his smile remains.

Carrying his empty dishes back to the counter, he sets them near a pile of others and makes his way towards the door. He glances over his shoulder at Dutch, whose eyes he catches just before wandering out into the night. It’s dark by now, but the chill in the air which used to plague every living soul in the area, is very faint. He feels warm. Happy.

Approaching the inn, he makes eye contact with the innkeeper and nods politely, heading up the stairs to his and Dutch’s room. He spots the case on the floor and lifts it onto the bed, unfastening the buckles and lying it out. Arthur takes a moment to gently lift a few things from the condensed pile, finding a deep grey silk robe at the bottom of it all. He grins, setting it out and lifting the other pieces of fabric back into their places. He clasps the case shut again and places it directly where Dutch had left it, lifting the robe by the shoulders to inspect it. It’s far from thick enough to wear outside, but it’ll do for sleeping in, that’s for sure.

Lying it back down on the bed, he removes his winter coat and hangs it on a coat rack near the room door, making sure to pull a ten out of the pocket. Returning to the bed and folding the robe over his arm, he looks towards the door and makes his way down to the main level again. He asks the bored innkeeper for a bath, and the man points to his right. Arthur sets down the ten and wanders off that way, the man standing up straight when he sees it. With the bath being less than a dollar, he shouldn’t be getting this much, but with the daily pay… he doesn’t mention Arthur’s assumed mistake.

The room is warm when he enters, the bath already being prepared. He kicks off his boots and lies the robe over a nearby chair, removing his clothes slowly. The water rises high enough to pass Arthur’s shoulders when he sinks into it, and he sighs out from the warmth. It feels wonderful, especially after a big meal like that. Despite the amount, though, he can’t help but continue to feel hungry.

He relaxes in this spot for a while before reaching for the soap and cleaning himself up. It’s the deepest clean he’s had in a month, so it feels rather nice to dig the grime out from under his fingernails, too.

As soon as he’s finished, he pulls the stopper on the tub and pulls a towel from a nearby rack. After drying off, he lifts the robe and slips his arms into it. It’s softer than he thought it would be, and definitely a bit colder than he’d expected. Then again, he’d been in a steaming bath for the past while, however long it’s been.

Leaving the washroom carrying his clothes and with the robe on, he climbs the stairs and returns to his and Dutch’s room. The door is shut behind him and he sets his clothes in a pile on a desk, moving to the bed to collapse. He pulls the covers over himself, a hand untying the thin straps around his front and leaving him to have a little less decency, but a little more comfort as he sinks into the mattress.

It’s only a few minutes later when Dutch arrives, attempting to be silent as he moves into the room and undresses, changing. Arthur’s turned away and barely awake, so he doesn’t notice. The alpha notices Arthur’s clothing choice, a small grin working onto his face when he thinks of the omega naked underneath. He slips in behind Arthur, trying to be silent as his socks slide against the fabric of the sheets.

“Hello,” Dutch whispers, pushing his knees against the backs of Arthur’s, to which Arthur smiles. He feels a hand on his arm, then it slowly moves around to his front, drawing soothing circles in the skin.

“Evenin’,” Arthur replies, sleepiness tied into his voice. He hardly moves much, leaning his shoulders back just a smidge for Dutch to have more room to pamper Arthur. He relaxes for the first time in seemingly years, about to let out a loud, satisfied purr, then the hands stop suddenly after a few moments, and Arthur lets out a short whine before Dutch speaks. And he was just getting to a calm sense of mind.

“You have enough to eat tonight?”

“Sure. Still a little hungry.” Arthur hums. “Why?” Dutch doesn’t answer the question, simply asking another.

“You’re exceedingly tired, and you’ve been easy to upset.”

“Dutch?”

“And… you’ve been nauseous for seemingly no reason.” The alpha continues. Arthur furrows his brows.

“Yeah? Pretty sure it’s because I’ve been hungry, though. Why?” Arthur tries again, tired and not planning on having much more of this.

“Motion sickness?” Dutch offers, and Arthur quietly nods his head.

“Why are you asking?” The alpha takes a long pause. Arthur begins to worry. Has he done something wrong, and now Dutch doesn’t want to touch him? Has his thin frame become offensive to Dutch somehow? God, please don’t let that be the case. He’s not sure if he can handle any more let-downs with Dutch. The man’s already got his heart, why can’t he break it a second time for good measure? Dutch hesitates for so long, Arthur is beginning to wonder if the man has suddenly fallen asleep, until he takes a heavy breath. Like he's delivering bad news.

“With how thin you are, Arthur... I feel something here, and it's not from your meals tonight."

Arthur takes a deep breath, not knowing quite what lies ahead for him.

"Are you pregnant?”


	13. A Few Battle Scars

“What?” Arthur asks, furrowing his brows. “I-I…” the omega shakes his head, his heart rate slowly picking up. “It’s impossible. He never— well, _we_ never did anything while I was in…” Arthur says, then he remembers. The very first time. He’d been in heat, and although Cliff had withdrawn, it must not have mattered. “Oh…” Arthur says, and he begins to worry more and more as the seconds tick by. Dutch’s hands slowly stroke over the backs of Arthur’s thighs in an attempt to calm him, but the omega simply sits up and pushes Dutch’s hands away. He wants no touch from an alpha right now, despite it being Dutch.

“Arthur,” the alpha sits up as well, adjusting to lean on an arm and leave the other free.

“Wha-what am I supposed to do, Dutch? You an’ everyone with ya’s been real kind, but I know you’re all strugglin’ just havin’ me around. You barely had room for me, what will you do with a littlun runnin’ around?”

“I’m sure we can handle it, Arthur. We hit this train, then maybe a bank somewhere, and we’ll have well more than enough to keep your little one alive.” Dutch tilts his head, moving to place himself a bit further into Arthur’s view. If Arthur really wants to keep the child, that is, if there is a child at all, then Dutch supposes he’ll let it slide. Dutch’ll teach him or her how to live, how to thrive. He’d half-taught John, anyway.

“I-I don’t know if I can keep a child of his. What if… what if they got his face? Not sure if I could bear that.” Dutch sighs, slowly lifting a hand and placing it on Arthur’s shoulder.

“We don’t know for sure if you are, alright? Let that keep your peace of mind for a little while. Maybe it’s all one big coincidence, and you are only showing from your dinner this evening.” The alpha tilts his head, looking at Arthur with a genuine look of caring; of worry.

“What’ll I do if I am, Dutch?” The omega looks up, a small pout playing on those lips. Dutch feels an overwhelming amount of pity for this omega, one who doesn’t deserve it and likely doesn’t want it. Especially from someone like Dutch, whose promises are empty most times, and he usually does things for an ill-willed urge. He’s not in this instance, not at all, but he still worries that he’s coming across that way to Arthur.

“We won’t know. As for right now, I think you need the rest.” Arthur looks to Dutch, a worried look on his face.

“If I am, will you hate ‘em, Dutch? Because they’re not yours?” Dutch looks at Arthur for a moment and shakes his head.

“Jack feels like a son to me. He isn’t mine, but might as well feel like he is. Been teaching him how to read.” Arthur looks away, thinking about the little boy in the next room over, likely lying cuddled up to his mother. He’d love to be like that. To have a child of his own to hold and cherish, and he had one. He lost that chance, and he’d figured that because he’d screwed up the first time, it was destined for him to never have another. He supposes this is a worse punishment. “Abigail doesn’t interest me, though, so it’s not quite the same.”

“Sayin’ I interest you?” Arthur says, trying to loosen the huge weight having been placed on his shoulders. It doesn’t work, and he pushes out a forced laugh.

“Just about.” Dutch smiles a bit, despite that pitying gaze still staying obvious in his eyes. He takes a moment to speak again, raising his eyebrows and looking down at Arthur’s hand. His fingers slide along the underside of the omega’s arm and he looks back up when Arthur slowly links their fingers. “We’ll take you to the doctor in Saint Denis, alright? I’m sure he’d be the best to go to, ignoring my hatred for that town’s ideals.”

“When?”

“Whenever, I suppose. If we leave now, we’ll likely get there by the time he opens shop anyway, but if we go tomorrow, we’ll be able to give the others better notice.” Arthur thinks for a moment, then nods and slowly releases Dutch’s fingers. He lies down, a solemn look on his face.

“It can wait until morning.” The alpha nods, lying back down. He doesn’t care to reach for the actual pillow, curling his arm under his head as a replacement. He looks at Arthur, watching as his face slowly turns into one of fear; of worry about the future. The alpha slowly reaches forward, pulling himself closer and softly pressing his lips to Arthur’s. It’s not a kiss shared between two lusty men craving one another, but rather one of a more soothing nature. One of caring. Of loving endearment.

Arthur takes less than a moment to pull back, looking Dutch in the eyes for any sign of the man wanting to use him. There is none, and he looks all too genuine, so Arthur places a hand on Dutch’s shoulder and pulls himself back in for another. It’s long and sweet, and Arthur begins to wonder what the positives would be of keeping the child. He supposes that if he somehow rids himself of it, which he isn’t entirely set on doing quite yet, he and Dutch could have their own. That is, if the alpha wants a child of his own, seeing as he’d killed that omega after mating him.

As he thinks about it, he realises that having Dutch’s child would be a hell of a lot better. Maybe with his, Arthur would feel confident in his decision of keeping it. As for right now, he’s not sure about how he feels. He doesn’t want to stop this child from living life, but on the other hand, he’s not sure how much life he can give them. In general, he thinks he’d be doing them a favour, not forcing them to live with Arthur, who would likely not have the same feelings as he would with Dutch’s child.

The omega pulls back, looking into Dutch’s eyes.

“Glad I caught you before you left. Not sure what I’d do if I hadn’t.” The alpha runs a couple fingers through Arthur’s hair, a small smile on his face as he nods.

“Ditto,” Dutch’s fingers catch just behind Arthur’s jaw, pulling him in for one more soft kiss before separating them. “Sleep, now.” Dutch coos, to which Arthur nods and gently turns himself around, lying back down. Dutch pulls himself closer, arm slung over Arthur’s body. Neither of them begin to purr, considering the realisation, but Arthur stays awake much longer than Dutch does.

It’s about an hour later, when Arthur has shuffled around a bit every five to ten minutes, that he speaks again. It’s quiet, but the stress and worry of the situation are prodding at his mind.

“Dutch,” he whispers, moving a bit in an attempt to shake the alpha awake. “Dutch?” The alpha rouses, blinking and gently clearing his throat.

“Arthur?” Dutch’s mind immediately jumps to the worst possible reason for Arthur waking him up, whatever that may be, in his blurred mind. He lifts himself onto an arm, looming over Arthur as he cups Arthur’s cheek and lifts his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Dutch, but… Are you still alright to take me to the doctor tonight?” Arthur asks, and Dutch blinks, clearing his throat a bit louder again.

“Sure. You feel sick or something?”

“No, I just can’t get to sleep. It’s worrying me too much.” Dutch pushes himself to a sit, nodding and running his palms over his face as he leans over the edge with his feet touching the floor. “I can go alone if you’re too tired to—”

“I’m going with, Arthur.” Dutch looks back at him, Arthur stopping for a moment and nodding. “Go ahead and get dressed, I’ll let Sadie know.” The omega moves to stand, arching and cracking his back. He moves towards his clothes, slowly pulling them on. He glances over his shoulder when he hears Dutch return to the room, spotting something on the bare juncture between his shoulder and his neck. Arthur stops, remembering the whole mating thing, and wanders over. He’s now got his pants and boots on, still accompanied by the robe.

Dutch looks at him with curiosity, not sure what he’s doing. He’s pulling on his own pants when Arthur gently grabs his shoulders and looks at the dark mark on his shoulder. The omega can see the shapes of Kieran’s teeth, however light they are after being left alone for so long, pressed into the flesh. However, Arthur’s eyes follow a dark trail of flowery curls and whisps drifting out from the mark, inked into the skin. Arthur’s lips spread in slight surprise.

“What’re you looking at?” Dutch looks to Arthur, who steps back.

“You got a tattoo over it? When?” Dutch looks away, pulling his shirt onto his arms and over his back, buttoning it up.

“Wasn’t long after it happened. I didn’t want it, so I thought I’d make something pretty of it, at least.”

“Instead of getting it removed.” Arthur nods. “It is beautiful. You have wonderful taste.” Dutch smiles a bit, laughing softly.

“Thank you, I’m glad you agree.” The alpha finishes buttoning his shirt, pushing it under his waistband. “Molly hated it. Said it only brought out the red, only made it more visible.” Arthur pulls off the robe and moves back to his clothing pile, lifting the shirt and putting it on. “I’d said I didn’t care, that I hadn’t done it to hide the past, and that’s about where everything started with her. Always jabbering my ear off about how much better she was for me than Kieran, how much more she cared about me, that’s why she never mated me.” Dutch shakes his head and slips on his vest. “Didn’t want her teeth on me anyhow.”

“I don’t blame you,” Arthur mutters, swallowing thickly when he feels that nausea kicking in again. It’s not as prominent, but it is surely there. He looks over to Dutch, who tightens the strap on the back of his vest to make it look a bit more form-fitting. Arthur fixes his collar and buttons his shirt, pulling suspenders over his shoulders and snapping them against his chest when he feels them start to tug on his pants a bit.

“You ever had anyone want to mate you, Arthur?” Dutch lifts the robe from where it has been set and folds it, lying it on the bed for later. “I know you have no mark, but has anyone told you their intentions, and never followed through?” The alpha gazes at Arthur as the omega finally stops dressing with the final layer, the thick winter coat.

“Yeah, actually.” Dutch raises his eyebrows and moves closer to listen. “Had someone. Name was Mary. She was a beta, so she and I could never have littluns of our own, but I loved that woman with my entire heart, tell you what.”

“What happened?” Dutch asks, fixing himself up a bit more. He’d made the mistake of leaving his pomade back at the house, but he’s sure he’ll be able to scrape a few dollars up for it if it becomes a hassle.

“Well, her daddy didn’t like me. Said she deserved a big, strong alpha to come pick her up and save her from the delusions of likin’ me. Gave her a ring, once.” Arthur raises his eyebrows as he looks off into space, a sad, blank expression on his face. “She gave it back nearly a week later after sayin’ yes, but I guess that’s just the way of the world, innit?” Dutch nods, placing his hand softly on Arthur’s shoulder.

“That it is, my friend,” the alpha takes only a moment more before he leads the way out of the room and down to the main level. They pass by a different person behind the desk, but neither make a comment on it. Arthur follows Dutch as he wanders out towards the edge of town, the omega stuffing his hands in his pockets and secretly lifting them to feel the bump on the lower part of his stomach. Part of him truly hopes that it’s all a coincidence, and that Dutch’s worries were without reason, but the other part wants it to be true. Wants him to have a second chance of raising a child of his own. With Dutch, even. He suspects that the man would be a spectacular teacher.

“We’ll grab a horse from one of the wagons, and we’ll make sure to bring it back before this time tomorrow. I told Sadie that we’d be back later than that, as an excuse to spend a little more time together, but if you’d like to come back a little sooner, that’s alright with me.”

“When will the train be coming?”

“It’ll be coming in from Saint Denis by the end of the week, we’re only waiting for it. Supposedly the richest train in all of these four states, so we’ll likely get some pricey things off of it.”

“We boarding, then hijacking?”

“Sure, you could put it that way.” Dutch spots the camp not far from town, moving a bit faster as soon as he’s got a visual. Arthur takes a long while to speak again, finally speaking as soon as they’re on the horse, after untying it from the wagon and hopping on. Arthur’s arms are snug around Dutch’s waist as they ride, Dutch pressing the horse pretty hard as soon as they’re out of the camp’s vicinity.

“Do you really think I’m pregnant, Dutch?” Arthur worries aloud, and the alpha removes a hand form the reins to gently pat his thigh and keep it there for a moment before removing it.

“I’m not sure, but we’ll be seeing someone soon who will surely have a better idea than I will.” Arthur nods, chin placed on Dutch’s shoulder as they ride.

“What if—”

“Quit worrying about the ‘what-if’s, sweet Omega. You’ll be alright. The little one will be alright, if it’s true. We’ll be alright. We can handle it.” Arthur relaxes a bit more and hugs himself a bit closer, the nausea fading with the reassurance of everything being okay. His mind wanders a bit less as he watches over Dutch’s shoulder, the alpha’s scent slowly drifting into his senses from being right there in front of Arthur. The omega smiles as he pictures a little girl running back and forth between him and Dutch. A child with a beautiful face and a heartwarming laugh. The girl in his mind’s eye must be Dutch’s, simply from the way her thick black hair only curls at the ends, and the way her caramel irises pick up the sun in the perfect way, just as Dutch’s do. They’re happy in his mind, and he wants them to be happy. He wants to have the child of Dutch, not of some other horrid man, who forced him to starve and to be completely alone for six weeks straight. It should be no comparison, but he doesn’t want to ruin the life of this child. The possibility.

He finds himself falling asleep as he’s this close to Dutch, his head leant on the man’s shoulder and arms still linked around his waist. Dutch feels Arthur’s weight slowly be pushed more and more onto him, but he doesn’t complain. Arthur is beyond exhausted, and although his body might be more than proficient at keeping that a secret, Dutch knows. He can see it in the poor man’s eyes, the dark bags accentuating the bruises on his face.

Dutch begins to worry if the doctor will think he’s done this to Arthur. If anyone will think he’s laid a hand on Arthur in such a way… in which he has. He hadn’t been thinking straight, but the poor omega had suffered because of him, and is likely thinking about it now, even in his restful sleep. Dutch has done some terrible things to the omega, just after the few days they’d known of each other, and then immediately after he returned. He tries to compensate, say that his actions were hardly as bad as the other alpha’s, but the simple fact that he has to justify himself against that monster is incriminating in itself. He shouldn’t be able to compare himself to that beast without having to make a long stretch across their differences. They aren’t at all alike, he thinks. Dutch genuinely cares for Arthur, that alpha didn’t, and likely never would have.

Dutch thinks to Arthur’s scent, smelling it as the omega leans so trustingly on his back. He certainly smells different from the day he’d disappeared, as Dutch remembers, but that isn’t very reliable, seeing as he’d been in rut that day, and every scent was accentuated. He smells like the other alpha, which causes Dutch to hate the scent, but there’s a twinge of something different in there, something that tells him to protect Arthur. That’s mainly the reason he’d brought up the pregnancy idea, having been thinking on it after the “eating for two” comment while Arthur ate. He’d been experiencing all of the tell-tale signs, and Dutch hadn’t wanted to think about it seriously, but then he’d felt that bump, and he’d begun to worry.

His worry is one of the causes for their outing right now. Arthur could’ve simply fallen asleep without him saying anything and they could’ve gone in the morning, but Dutch worried for Arthur and mentioned it sooner rather than later. He’d offered to go, and he wasn’t going to turn back on that because Arthur had wanted to let him sleep. What if the omega had fallen asleep on the horse, and fallen off? What kind of people would come around to find him, then? Would they simply trample him? The idea causes a shiver to run up Dutch’s spine. That’s not at all the way Dutch wants him to go.

Ignoring the horrid thoughts, he keeps his priorities in mind: Arthur’s wellbeing.


	14. A Choice

They reach Saint Denis after a few hours of Dutch riding with Arthur on the back, having slowed down to allow the omega a better sleep, with less possibility of nausea. The sun is rising by now, at least halfway into the sky, and Dutch takes this as a good sign. Maybe when they arrive, they won’t have to wait.

The sound of the horse’s hooves against the cobblestone is music to Dutch’s ears, a little smile surfacing on his face as he realises that despite everything going on, he’s happy. He’s gotten Arthur back, and even though the poor omega might be carrying another alpha’s child, he can’t help but feel overjoyed with Arthur’s return. He’s got someone to love again, to depend on.

Trotting along through town, Dutch keeps his eyes out for the sign. It appears rather quickly, Dutch carefully bringing the horse closer to a pole and hitching her there. Arthur stirs when he feels Dutch moving, lifting his head a bit, only to nuzzle back into the alpha’s scent.

“Arthur,” Dutch purrs, leaning back a bit. “We’re here.” The omega’s eyes spring open after a second of figuring out what Dutch means, a look of fear plastered onto them.

“Sorry for falling asleep on you, I meant to stay awake and think about what I’m going to say.” Arthur says, sighing and lowering his gaze in slight shame.

“No, no.” Dutch shakes his head and pulls himself off of the horse, dragging Arthur down as well and placing him on his feet. “No need to worry about all of that. I’ll do the talking; seems that’s the one thing I’m good at.” Arthur wants to retort and remind Dutch of what he has done for Arthur just in the past few hours, but the alpha gently grabs his hand to lead him along, and his thoughts quieten. He’ll leave Dutch to the talking.

Dutch’s fingers lace with Arthur’s as they move around and towards the door, the alpha holding open the door and following Arthur in. The woman at the desk turns around and looks between them.

“What can I help you gentlemen with today?”

“He just needs a bit of a checkup, is all.” Dutch replies, a friendly gaze in his eyes. Arthur watches as the man convinces her without telling the full truth. It’s mesmerising really, watching as the human mind falls for something so easily. Granted, it’s not a life or death scenario, but it’s still interesting to watch her fall for a half-lie.

“The doctor will be with you shortly,” she nods, and taps the plunger of a service bell. She returns to her previous actions, Dutch leading Arthur over to a small waiting area and sitting down beside him. The man groans just slightly as he sits and glances around. Arthur sits down after Dutch, his fingers still tightly locked around the man’s, keeping them together. The alpha takes notice of this after a moment, lifting their hands and silently pressing his lips to the back of Arthur’s. The omega smiles and looks over at Dutch, then back at the doctor’s door.

“Be prepared to tell him everything you’re feeling, Arthur,” Dutch mutters to Arthur, being courteous. “Everything.”

“I know.” Arthur nods, looking elsewhere to idly examine the room. “Best possible results, right?” Dutch hums in approval, glancing up at a clock for a few moments to watch as the hands move.

“Gentlemen?” The doctor speaks from the doorway, and they both look up to him, Dutch leading them to their feet as a unit.

“Doctor,” Dutch moves to him, putting out a hand and firmly shaking the man’s before stepping through the door and into the room. Arthur follows along, subtly scanning the man. He’s a beta from the way he stands, but that’s to be expected; not many alphas or omegas make it into the professional medical field. It has long since been deemed unsafe and ridiculous when they could go into heat and simply have their way with a patient, should they see fit in their time of need. Arthur’s glad he didn’t get one of the few alphas. Despite their obvious ability to withhold themselves for a while, he doesn’t think he wants to smell another alpha’s rut for years, if he can avoid it.

“What seems to be the problem?” The doctor asks, wandering idly into the room after shutting the door, leaning a bit against the counter. Dutch, now sitting in a pulled-up chair beside the main one, looks to Arthur, who gazes back with the look of a man with a tied tongue. The alpha’s gaze moves back up to the doctor, and he shuffles in his seat for a moment to ease the slight tension in the room.

“My friend and I here are concerned that he may be expecting.” Dutch’s fingers are still interwoven with Arthur’s, the omega’s knuckles a bit lighter as he holds on a bit tighter. “We wanted to confirm that with a virtuoso of the medical field, such as yourself.”

“No wonder you’re here so early.” The man nods, glancing to the omega. “And you would be the likely father, sir?” Dutch takes a long pause to answer, sighing out before he does.

“Wish I could say I was, Doc.”

“But you are his current partner, yes?” Arthur looks at Dutch to see his face as he answers, seeing a look of uncertainty before he answers.

“I’d like to say so, yes,” Dutch nods, and Arthur looks back to the beta, who has turned around and is retrieving a few things from a drawer.

“He is.” Arthur says, and the doctor looks over his shoulder before nodding. Dutch looks down as he tries to hide a bit of a smile, not really having cared to make the possibility of a relationship so real, especially right in front of another person.

“Your symptoms?” The doctor asks, using gloved hands to hang a stethoscope over his neck and sit on a swiveling stool, pulling himself closer to Arthur, who takes a moment to think through all of the things he’d been feeling over the past few weeks. That, and the things Dutch had mentioned last night while suggesting the possibility.

“I’ve been exhausted for a few weeks now, and I started gettin’ real sick couple a’ days ago. Been real easy to upset, an’ got a huge appetite all of a sudden.”

“I mentioned it to him last night when I felt a bump. He’s so thin, Doc, I’m sure you can see the reason for my worry.” The doctor nods, eyebrows furrowed as he takes in the symptoms. “He ate a bunch beforehand, but I’d been thinking about all of this over dinner, and decided to raise the idea when I felt it.”

“Who would be the proverbial other parent, if I may ask?” The doctor looks to Arthur, who swallows thickly.

“He ain’t a nice man.” Dutch gently squeezes the omega’s hand to urge him on. The beta needs to know this, just in case it might affect something. “Snatched me up while I was in heat and kept me locked away for weeks. Hardly any food or water.”

“He bred you, then?” The doctor gently questions.

“Not quite, but almost. Thought I got away easy, but seems right now that I didn’t.”

“You had no connection with this man? No mating?”

“God no.” Arthur hisses, the idea simply revolting in his mind. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t just as much in Dutch’s, but he doesn’t make his discomfort any more obvious than a slight grimace.

“How long has it been since then?”

“Well, it happened ‘bout the first or second day I was there, an’ it woulda been seven weeks in a few days.” The doctor lifts the stethoscope from his neck, looking as if he’s going to put it away, but then glancing back and moving forward.

“If I may?” Arthur slowly nods, watching as the doctor’s hands near him. “I’ll have to unbutton your shirt a bit.” Dutch’s hand is squeezed tightly as the omega looks down at the doctor, who is unbuttoning only one button and placing the cold end of the object to his chest. “Breathe in deep,” Arthur complies after a moment. “And out.” This repeats a few times before the doctor moves away to hang the stethoscope over his neck again and the omega buttons his shirt. “May I feel?” The man looks to Arthur again, who slowly nods. The doctor’s hand reaches forward again, slowly touching at Arthur’s lower front. “Would this be your first?”

“Second.” Dutch is caught by surprise, looking to Arthur with a look of amazement and disbelief. Arthur couldn’t’ve been pregnant before, that would make no sense. That is, unless the man simply hasn’t told him everything, in which case the alpha would let it go. He doesn’t need to know every single thing about the poor omega.

“And your symptoms were?”

“They all kinda crept up on me. The nausea wasn’t as bad, and I didn’t crave too much, but I also wasn’t goin’ hungry then, either.”

Arthur watches as he stands from his seat and sets the stethoscope aside on the counter, likely to be washed later. He returns to the stool again, looking back and forth between Arthur and Dutch as he prepares to give the overall consensus.

“Well, I’m not sure what to tell you.” He looks at Arthur, who tenses. “If it weren’t for that scent you’re carryin’, I woulda told you it was all a coincidence, but it looks to me that you are, indeed, pregnant.” Arthur swallows thickly and Dutch’s thumb runs along the backside of the omega’s hand to soothe him just a bit.

“What can I do?” Arthur asks before thinking. “If I wanted to get rid of them?” Dutch looks over at the omega, not expecting that of him. At least he’s still speaking in the proverbial sense, and hasn’t made a lifetime’s decision in a split-second. He’s also using a human’s term, rather than ‘it’ as Dutch likely would’ve.

“Well, there are a few options.” The doctor pushes himself away, back to the counter, and reaches into a low drawer. He lifts a small vial of clear liquid from a group of them together in the drawer, moving back to the others in the room. “There’s this,” he hands the vial to Arthur, who looks at it with a strange expression, one Dutch can’t quite read.

“What is it?”

“It’s… well, it’s essentially poison.” Arthur looks up with a pinch of fear in his eyes, seeming to want to hand it back. “It’s not strong enough to hurt you too bad. You’ll get pretty sick for a week or so, but the fetus, more susceptible to it, will be killed in process.” The omega looks back down at it, turning the vial, slightly thinner than Arthur’s thumb and just a bit longer than Arthur’s pointer finger. Dutch wonders how something so small could hurt something so badly. Must be watered-down arsenic, to have an effect like that. “You either drink it, or I can inject it if you come in again.”

“What are the other options?”

“There’s another way, but you have to hold out for another ten to twelve weeks for me to do it.” Arthur nods slowly, still nervously turning that vial in his hand. “It’s another injection, where I’d remove some of the fluid from where the fetus is, and replace it with a mixture of high salt concentration. It would inhale and poison itself, and be gone before the hour is out.” Arthur swallows harshly again. Both of these sound so terrible, so painful for the child. Granted, they are likely not yet able to feel pain, or at the very least, recognise it as such, seeing that they’ve been alive for less than seven weeks.

“And the third?”

“It’s dangerous, with a mortality rate of thirty percent as of right now, but it’s a surgical procedure where we remove the fetus entirely.” Dutch immediately hates the idea, not wanting to see Arthur blindly walk into that, thinking he’s the lucky seventy percent. Men like him, like Dutch, are hardly ever in the lucky numbers. Why would that change now, of all times?

“Oh,” is all Arthur says, looking back down at the vial. To Dutch, the best option seems to be the one he holds in his hand. The other two ways, he would have to return to this doctor and have needles and knives stuffed into him. That seems terrifying, just from Dutch’s perspective. He doesn’t want to lose Arthur right after getting him back.

“Tell you what,” the doctor says, leaning onto his arms, draped over his knees. “I’ll let you keep this.” He touches the vial, and Arthur looks up at him, almost afraid to have that much power in his hands. “But I’ll ask you to allow your partner here, to keep it safe until you’ve truly made your decision. I trust that he is a fine man, and one who cares about you quite a bit.” Dutch glances over to Arthur, a thumb running over the back of the omega’s.

“Alright,” Arthur nods. “I’ll keep it.” He wraps his fingers around it, sitting up a bit. “How much do I owe you for it?” The omega begins to reach for his pocket, but Dutch stops him in his tracks, reaching for his own.

“Seeing as it is relatively safe and secure for your omega, whom you clearly do care an awful lot about,” the doctor gives a little smile. “I’ll lower the price to fifty dollars. If you decide on the others, schedule another appointment and we’ll have it done, no questions asked.” Dutch nods, pulling several tens out of his pocket. He folds them over as he counts five, then hands them to the doctor.

“Thank you, Doc,” Dutch smiles in return. “I’m glad we came to the right guy.”

“Of course. And I’ll usually be here, so if you’ve got any more questions, simply come in when I’m available.” The doctor nods as Dutch stands, Arthur following along. The alpha tosses his hand out, the doctor giving him a firm handshake before politely escorting them to the door. “I hope to hear from you two again, all good news.” Dutch nods, turning away when he hears the door shut behind them.

Arthur is still staring at the vial in his hand, his thoughts racing through his mind as he tries to figure out just what he wants to do. He wants to ask Dutch about what he wants, but he knows the man will turn the question around on Arthur again and tell him that it’s his choice. That’s simply the type of alpha he is.

“You want to grab a bite to eat before we head back, Arthur?” Dutch looks to him, finally separating their hands to hang his arm over Arthur’s shoulders and pull him closer. The omega looks up as if he hadn’t heard the question, still deep in his mind. “Hungry?”

“Yeah,” Arthur nods, slowly holding the vial out to Dutch. The alpha takes it and slides it into a pocket on his tailcoat, patting it gently.

“I’ll keep it safe, Arthur. I want to say you have that much trust in me?” Arthur nods and leans against Dutch, a spell of drowsiness falling over him. Dutch holds strong, stroking a hand over the omega’s shoulder. “Got anywhere you want to go? Heard the La Bastille Saloon sells some pretty fine lobster soup.” Arthur’s eyes widen and he comes to life a bit more. “Hear something you like?”

“Let’s go,” Arthur pulls on him, and Dutch’s laugh rings out in Arthur’s ears like the most gorgeous song he’s ever heard. It brings a smile to his face, similar to the one from a day or so ago, when they were in the wagon. Dutch reconnects their hands and begins to lead them across the street and down a longer road before turning and pointing to the doors pressed into the corner of a building. It definitely looks like a saloon for rich folk, Arthur thinks, before his hunger gets the best of him and he’s pulling Dutch through the doors.

Arthur has an easier time marching up to the bar, ordering the lobster bisque and waiting for Dutch to request a meal himself. Yet again, after the man orders, Dutch stops Arthur from reaching for the money in his pocket, and pays the eight dollars from his own for each of their meals. The alpha looks down to Arthur when the bartender says their food will be ready shortly, and leads him to a table.

When they sit, Arthur looks across the table at a man who once seemed like cared very little for anyone aside himself. Over the past couple of days, Arthur supposes that he’s learned he was wrong. The man can care about another, so long as he has a reason. As for that reason, Arthur doesn’t know it, and he doesn’t think he wants to know. He only wants Dutch to keep him close, to keep an eye on Arthur in case he ends up taking the wrong path, which he likely will, at some point.

He looks across the table and sees a broken, yet happy, man. He’s got smile lines around his nose and at the corners of his eyes. His cheeks have the slightest tint of red, making him look joyous and well-mannered, which he seems to be. This man looks to be sad, yet happy. He looks to have experienced the lowest points of life, and relished in the best. Arthur looks at this man whom he’s known all of a week in total, and can fully say that there’s a sense of pride in knowing that he’s chosen Arthur. That Arthur is his reason.

He can say that he loves Dutch van der Linde, although he’s sure he wouldn’t say it aloud, and be proud of himself. Proud that he’s finally found someone to care.

“What’re you crying for?” Dutch tilts his head, reaching across the table to wipe Arthur’s tears away from his eyes and onto his shirt. The omega continues to smile, laughing a bit as he sits back and drags his sleeves over his eyes.

“Sorry,” he shakes his head and sits back up with pinkened eyes. “Just thinkin’.”

“Hope it’s not too bad,” Dutch gives a little smile as he watches Arthur.

“Not at all.” There’s another silence that passes over them as Dutch looks around the place and sits back, Arthur watching Dutch as the god moves and  _ exists _ just before him. How could it possibly be that Dutch is interested in a sad old man like Arthur?

“You alright? Staring an awful lot.”

“Sure.” Arthur nods and slowly looks away. “Enjoyin’ the view, is all.” Dutch laughs, smiling as he sits up and leans on the table a bit. “Dutch?” The alpha looks at him, humming to show that he’s listening. Arthur freezes up for a moment, eyes locked on Dutch’s. He’s not quite sure how to bring this up, and he supposes he should’ve done it while they were first talking about the possibility. “Do you ever want to have kids?” The question definitely catches Dutch off-guard, but he answers honestly with a small shrug.

“Never put much thought into it.”

“That has got to be a lie, Dutch.” Arthur calls his bluff, shaking his head. “You’re an alpha, you have to have thought about it at least once.”

“Sure,” Dutch shakes his head, laughing a bit. “I haven’t found anyone I’ve wanted to have children with yet, at least not anyone who reflects that intention.” Arthur nods, taking a few breaths to steady himself a bit as Dutch looks away again. He’s afraid to ask, but it’s better sooner than later, right?

“Will you help me raise this child if I go through with it?” The omega looks down as he speaks, looking back when Dutch doesn’t answer for a few moments.

“I feel like we should talk about this later, Arthur,” the worst possible words come across to Arthur, and he feels a heavy sigh tear through his chest. Dutch looks suddenly so disappointed; upset. Of course, Dutch doesn’t want to talk about it because he doesn’t want to deal with Arthur’s problem. It’s Arthur’s fault, isn’t it. Somehow, it’s Arthur’s fault. Arthur’s the reason Dutch is without a lover now, and the reason Susan simply can’t stand the omega anymore.

Everything is all Arthur’s fault.

“Alright,” the mood shifts. Arthur is obviously quieter, less open. The omega sits back in his seat a bit, arms loosely crossed over his chest as he stares down at his belly. It’s barely different from when he wasn’t pregnant, but he can’t stop thinking that there’s something there. Something obvious.

Dutch looks at Arthur and lets out a small breath, clearing his throat.

“I’ll be back, gonna go get myself a drink.” Arthur nods, watching as Dutch pulls off his tailcoat and lies it over the back of his chair. He wanders away towards the bar, and Arthur sits up. He keeps his eyes trained on the alpha.

It’s all his fault, and Arthur’s made a mistake of trusting Dutch with his pregnancy. Standing, he moves to Dutch’s chair and keenly watches the man as he speaks to the bartender. He doesn’t turn around. Does he even want Arthur to stay?

Arthur reaches into Dutch’s coat pocket, retrieves the vial, and makes his way towards the door.

And then he runs.


	15. An Unorthodox Ride

When Dutch turns around, he doesn’t expect to see that Arthur is missing. He looks around a bit, furrowing his brows. Perhaps Arthur’s just gone to relieve himself outside, and simply did not warn Dutch? Not that he has to for any means other than the alpha simply worrying about his safety. He won’t demand anything of Arthur. He’s not Arthur’s father, thus has no right.

“Hey, pal,” a man leans over to Dutch, his voice completely barren of sobriety. The alpha looks over, wondering why he’s speaking to Dutch, and if he’s got any information. “Guy stole somethin’ from your pocket an’ ran. Not a surprise, since you left your money there for him to take.” Dutch jolts at the words.

The vial.

He rushes away from the bar, dodging a few patrons as he sweeps his coat off of the back of the chair and pulls it on while he runs. Shoving himself out of the door, he looks to both sides, trying to figure out where Arthur would go first. Somewhere familiar, he guesses, but even if the omega had run to wherever that other alpha was, Dutch has no chance of finding him. At least not in time to stop him from killing the child, which he’s likely run away to do.

What had Dutch said to make Arthur do this? Is it his fault the omega ran? It has to be. Arthur wouldn’t run unless it was. He thinks back on their conversation, where Arthur’s mood suddenly shifted. Damn him and those mood swings, Dutch simply didn’t want to talk about the future while they were sitting so far out in the open. It seemed like a conversation they should’ve had when they were alone, when they had more privacy. He hadn’t meant a thing by it, at least not anything worthy of this reaction.

He hears a commotion off to his left, looking around the corner to see a cart veering off to the side of the road in order to avoid someone. He doesn’t see Arthur, but he hears the word “omega” shouted angrily, so his legs spur into action. He races down that road, trying to find Arthur through the line of stagecoaches waiting for passengers, glaring as he begins to pant. He can push himself through this. For Arthur.

Looking forward, he can see the post office just down the road, the train stopped and loading passengers. He feels a sense of dread pass over him. Arthur’s really trying to run, and Dutch is not quite sure where to. Arthur likely doesn’t know, either.

At this point, he begins to wonder if this is all worth the fuss. He shakes himself out of it after only a moment, though, and keeps himself focused. Of course it’s worth it. This is Arthur, a man he’s been unable to stop thinking about since the very first time they’d locked eyes. If he weren’t thinking right, he’d say they were destined, but Dutch doesn’t believe in destiny. He may be a dreamer, maybe even a romantic, but he doesn’t believe in destiny. Especially for those who are “destined” to find and fall in love with one another.

“Arthur!” Dutch heaves a breath, seeing the omega beginning to slow down. The gap between them is closing, but Arthur is getting threateningly close to the train, which is letting off of its brakes. “Arthur, don’t do this!” Dutch shouts, trying to push himself a bit harder. He can hear his footfalls, his muscles tensing, his heartbeat, in his ears. It’s almost deafening, covering up most of the outside noise. “Arthur,  _ please! _ ”

Arthur doesn’t look back. Doesn’t make eye contact with Dutch and change his mind at the last moment like Dutch hopes he will. He is, however, able to slow down enough as to not throw himself off of the other side of the link between train cars, visibly panting as he reaches the convoy before Dutch and moves into a luggage car to hide. Unluckily enough for him, though, he doesn’t notice how long the train is, and doesn’t see as Dutch is able to pull himself onto the train as well.

The alpha lugs himself up, his leg almost catching on the lip of the stair as he stabilises himself. He hasn’t had any reason to run like that for a long while, so he has to take a moment to catch his breath. He coughs a bit as he pulls himself into a passenger car, clearing his throat as he slowly moves about the cabin. Trying not to make his ragged breath known, he passes short glances with those on the train, glad to see that they don’t have that look of fear on their eyes when he’s robbing the train that they normally do. That means they likely hadn’t seen him or Arthur, and that’ll give them a larger amount of cover for the trip to wherever.

Moving along the walkway, he finds his way across and to the cargo hold, keeping his eyes out for the toes on a pair of boots or a short glimpse of the top of Arthur’s head. He doesn’t see either, but his eyes lock on Arthur when he sees the omega pressed uncomfortably between two crates, rubbing at that vial between his fingers. Arthur’s eyes slowly glaze along Dutch’s figure until it reaches the man’s face, and Dutch can’t help but feel a wave of anger wash over him.

“What the hell did you think you were doing, running off on me like that? I figured we’d established a small amount of trust at least, but clearly, I was mistaken.”

“I—”

“God damn it, Arthur,” the alpha reaches out and pulls Arthur to his feet by an arm, letting out a sigh as he pulls the omega close, wrapped in a protective embrace. “I was worried you’d be hurt, that you’d…” He shakes his head, voice cracking before reaching for Arthur’s hand and snagging the vial from him. “Remember what the doctor said, Arthur? How we were supposed to make this decision together?”

“Yes, I just—”

“Hush.” Dutch looks over his shoulder, hearing a pair of voices moving towards the cargo hold. He thinks quickly, grabbing Arthur’s wrist and leading him towards the next passenger car. If worse comes to worst, they’ll simply offer up cash to keep the men quiet about their stowaways. The worst thing that could happen is them being caught and thrown off of the train, but even then, Dutch would make sure Arthur is safe, that the child is safe. He’d curl himself around Arthur or something, whatever to protect him.

They make it into the passenger car, Dutch pulling Arthur down onto a seat beside him. He looks out the window, an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. He hears the two men from before move in through the doors and he lets out a heavy sigh, still trying to settle from his run. He notices now that Arthur is the same way, legs still twitching a bit from the sudden stop.

“Dutch…” Arthur begins, and the alpha almost doesn’t want to reply. Not after last time, when he’d simply been speaking his mind about the privacy of the conversation, and Arthur had gotten all uppity. Omegas like him don’t deserve to get that way, especially when Dutch was simply saying that they should talk about it at a later time. He supposes now that if Arthur brings it up, the omega will get an answer. It may or may not be the answer he’s looking for, but it’ll be an answer all the same. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” the alpha growls, nostrils flaring a bit. He feels Arthur scoot himself away just a bit, and he drags the omega back just as quickly. “I’m angry with you, Arthur. You betrayed my trust.”

“I know, Dutch, I’m sorry…” the omega reiterates, letting out a short sigh as Dutch’s eyes are caught on a couple of men walking along the walkway and scanning the people on the train. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He lies. He knows exactly what he was thinking, and he’s still certain of it, if not absolutely sure, seeing how upset Dutch is. There may or may not be truth and reason behind Dutch’s indignation, but that doesn’t make Arthur feel any better about the situation. “I won’t ask again.” The alpha simply shakes his head. “What?”

“Arthur, you know damn good and well that the question is not what I’m disappointed about.” Sure it is, Arthur thinks. It has to be. Dutch had said no to talking about taking care of the child, so Arthur ran away to take care of it himself. The one thing he doesn’t understand is why Dutch followed him so vigorously, like the alpha is the one who made the bigger mistake, and was chasing Arthur to apologise. If anything…

“It isn’t?” Dutch looks at him, brows furrowed.

“Do you really think that’s why, Arthur?” Dutch watches as Arthur slowly shakes his head. The alpha looks away and out the window for a moment. There’s no one sitting in front of them for at least five seats, and no one sitting on the other side of the walkway, so this is about as close as they’re going to get to privacy any time soon, it seems. “It’s not.” Dutch looks back at him. “Not at all.”

“But you had this look about you, Dutch, when I said it. If you woulda seen your face, then you would—”

“Then I made a mistake, Arthur. I’m sorry.” The alpha retorts gently, stopping Arthur’s words where they are without being too forcefully loud or demanding. He recognises that his true instincts are beginning to show with his anger, and he promises that he won’t let them get ahead of him. They can’t, not now. “Yes, I want children, Arthur. I want to be beside you for this child’s life. Even if it’s not mine, I’ll love it.”

“‘It’.” Arthur replies, mumbling the word. He’s overjoyed, but this specific detail catches him in the midst of his happiness. He looks away from Dutch, looking out over the very few people sitting in the passenger car with them.

“Excuse me?”

“You said ‘it’. Twice.”

“And?” Dutch isn’t watching his tone closely enough and Arthur tries to move away from him again as that grimace passes onto his face.

“Forget it.” Arthur simply drops it, and Dutch looks at the omega as he lowers his gaze and clearly begins to think again in that mind of his.

“Arthur,” Dutch begins, then sighs, letting go of him and moving himself closer to the window. Arthur is being impossible, and Dutch is really trying to cooperate with the omega, but he’s denying Dutch at every turn. Does Arthur even care to keep him around anymore? He seems to be treating Dutch similarly to the dirt he scuffs his shoes on. Maybe Dutch should just hand the vial over to Arthur and let him do it. Let him get this all over with, and they can return to their normal lives. With or without one another.

Arthur watches as Dutch separates himself from Arthur. Like there’s an invisible wall between them, keeping them apart. Those eyes look tired. They no longer look happy like they did in the saloon, and Arthur knows it’s his fault this time. Truly, it is. It has to be. If he’d simply allowed it to wash off of his shoulders, what would’ve happened? Would they be happy, enjoying a conversation over a delicious meal? What if he hadn’t asked in the first place. Dutch would be happy, at least. He wouldn’t have to think about half of the things Arthur is terrified about in this moment. Namely, Dutch being distant from him.

So Arthur breaks the barrier between them, slowly lying his head against Dutch’s shoulder. He can get a better glimpse of the man’s face from this position, seeing the dusting of stubble from being away from a proper razor for a few days, along with the deep bags under his eyes. He remembers that Dutch hasn’t really slept in a couple of nights due to Arthur’s incessant behaviour. Dutch is truly acting this way because of Arthur, but it’s not something he directly said.

“You look tired,” Arthur says, trying to lighten the heavy tension between them. His head is on Dutch’s shoulder now, and the alpha readjusts to slowly drag his fingers through Arthur’s hair while still looking away.

“I am.”

Arthur thinks about how immediate his response is, however short and worrying to the omega. He’s gotta be so tired just from the look of the dark circles under his eyes. They look inhuman, like they’re slowly sinking into Dutch’s skull.

“You should sleep, Dutch,” Arthur croons.

“Nice try.” The alpha replies, and Arthur pulls back. There seems to be nothing he can do, so after a stretched silence, he tries the worst possible conversation starter.

“If I got rid of this one, would you have a child with me?” Dutch’s brows furrow heavily, Arthur can see his cheekbones slowly rise as he contemplates with a beyond-confused look on his face.

“What?”

“I don’t want another alpha’s child.”

“That doesn’t mean you can simply  _ get rid _ of this one, Arthur. That’s… that’s sick.” Dutch sounds unsure of himself all-of-a-sudden.

“Maybe you’re right.” But maybe he’s completely wrong, and Arthur should. Dutch would love him more if he was carrying the alpha’s child, not some other foul-smelling soul who should have never had his hands on Arthur in the first place.

There’s a desperation in Arthur’s heart, itching for him to fix this tear in their newly-mended, newly-formed relationship. This can’t be the way they split, simply because of Arthur’s urge to have Dutch’s child rather than anyone else’s. He tries to think of another way, any other way.

“Dutch?”

“Arthur.” He won’t look away from that window, but from the sound of his voice, he’s still as alert as ever, and he’s likely not falling asleep any time soon due to Arthur’s little stunt back at the saloon.

“Will you kiss me?” The alpha finally breaks eye-contact with the window, glancing over at Arthur. Certainly, he wants to, but he’s not sure what this will accomplish. It might make Arthur feel better, but Dutch will still feel that pit in his heart. That pit of regret for trusting Arthur, then berating him about it like he promised he wouldn’t. He told himself that he’s not that kind of alpha, but it seems he was wrong.

“Why?” Dutch asks, and Arthur feels a shot of pain through his heart. There shouldn’t have to be a reason. Thinking, Arthur finds no reason. There is none. So he pauses.

“Never mind.” He shakes his head, lowering his gaze again as he moves further from Dutch and sits closer to the edge of the seat than to Dutch. The alpha silently breathes and tips his head back to hit the train car wall. He’s on the verge of giving up at this point, Jesus. What exactly is he supposed to do.

They should have time apart. Time to think about what they’ve said to one another; what they should say. Arthur’s tried all he can, and Dutch seems to have given up.

That is, until Dutch touches Arthur’s cheek and tilts the omega’s face toward his own, leaning in and taking a kiss. Arthur is all-too ecstatic about the action and throws his arms around Dutch’s neck, silently pleading for forgiveness as he smiles into the kiss. Dutch feels the movement and begins to feel a smile slowly creep onto his own, their lips moving smoothly against one anothers’. Arthur lets out a soft breath, his voice laced into it and beginning to sound like a moan. Dutch grips Arthur’s face and pulls them apart, watching as the omega looks about to whine.

“Hush, Arthur.” He whispers, then reconnects them. They need this. They need the rejoice of intimacy after everything happening over the past hour or so. Arthur’s arms are laid on Dutch’s shoulders, fingers laced in Dutch’s curls. Those locks, however messy, complement his features beyond belief, as Arthur believes, and Dutch can’t get the glazed-over look of Arthur’s sea-blue irises out of his mind. He wants that to constantly be on Arthur’s face, just so he can always see the faint blush. Arthur looks as if he’s been in a windstorm for a few minutes, and he’s just come inside from the cold.

“Alpha?” Arthur asks, afraid to use Dutch’s name again while they’re like this. He’s not sure why, but he avoids it altogether anyway.

“Yes, my sweet,” Dutch replies, pulling back with a small smile on his lips. Finally, Arthur thinks, progress. He’s made Dutch a little happier for once today, and Arthur will be sure to watch himself until they can have just a bit of time apart. That’s healthy.

“I love you,” Arthur whispers, and Dutch stops for a moment. He doesn’t freeze, simply sitting there and thinking for a few moments as he gently sucks at the lower part of Arthur’s neck, seeing the skin turning a dark shade of pink.

In all honesty, Dutch isn’t sure how to respond. He knows he’s smitten with the idea of Arthur, but he’s not sure if he wants to admit that aloud yet, thus granting it power and truth. He won’t allow something of an idea to control him, so he pauses for a moment until he finally speaks.

“I love you too, Arthur,” he says, whispering softly against the omega’s lips as he raises himself again. “Don’t forget that, alright? Won’t change. Not a chance.” Arthur smiles, feeling the tears slowly surfacing again. He’s the happiest he could be, he thinks, and he doesn’t want that to end.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end at some point.


	16. A Peculiar Encounter

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Dutch reluctantly pulls away, but from the voice, he can almost tell it was one of those men. He just had one of those faces, the ones where you could immediately tell what he sounded like without hearing a single word. Don’t get him wrong, in most cases, that’s not a bad thing, but in this one, it is. If you could compare horse shit to a voice, and you could compare it to a face, and you’d get him.

“Yes?” The alpha looks up and tries not to gag at the long, unkempt lamb chops outlining an invisible jaw, hidden by the man’s fat. Arthur slowly leaning away from Dutch as well, seeing as they were caught in such an intimate moment. “Something we can help you with?”

“Y’all got tickets?” Dutch frowns and simply glances at Arthur for a moment before looking back up. He wants to lie, but he knows down which path the conversation would tread, so he simply shakes his head.

“He and I happened to catch the train right when it was leaving, and this happens to be the very last train out due to the bridge being blown to bits.”

“A bridge was blown apart? When’d you find out about that?”

“Just this morning. Someone was talking about it, and we happened to be passing by when they were.” Dutch looks back down to Arthur and musses up the omega’s hair for effect. Arthur looks up at the man, who seems to be rather confused with this information, and attempts to nod, stopped by the fingers in his hair.

Dutch is a professional at lying. That much is blatantly obvious to Arthur, and his mind starts wandering in the direction of the devil’s advocate, wondering if Dutch has lied to him in their time of knowing one another. He’s beginning to touch on the idea of the alpha simply luring him into a false sense of security before delivering the final blow and completely removing his opinion on the matter of the child. His thoughts are spiralling out of control, and he tries to catch them. They take a few attempts to finally capture, but he gets a grasp on them eventually and reins them in, a bit closer to reality as it really is.

Dutch is a liar, but he would never lie to Arthur.

“I heard nothin’ about a bridge.”

“Sure you didn’t, but they sounded pretty distressed about it, so I’ll trust them better than a mere bit of intuition.” Dutch replies, arm sliding down to rest around the omega’s waist.

“Still,  _ sir _ , that don’t dismiss the fact that y’all are on a train without tickets. You wan’na be tossed off the back or the side?”

“Perhaps we can discuss a deal, then? The information I provided you for a ride to the first stop?” Arthur makes a glance out the window at the terrain. They seem to be on solid ground for a little while at least, but if they’re going to be thrown off of the train, he wants to fall onto grass rather than off of a bridge. He doesn’t doubt that the men will toss them into a ravine if it happens to be where they are at the time. Dutch needs to hurry this up.

The man lets out a sarcastic laugh.

“You’re a funny man, feller, but I’ll ask again. Back or side?”

“I’ve got money, sir, if that’s what’cha want.” Dutch is calm. He should be demanding they stay, not simply speaking with the man like he is. He’s too calm, there should be an alertness in his voice. God damn, he’s  _ too calm _ .

“I’m not gonna take a deal from you, feller.” The man leans down to look Dutch in the eyes, glaring.

“This is America, son, anyone can cut a deal with  _ anyone _ , if the stakes are high enough.” Dutch glares in return.

“I’m not takin’  _ your  _ deal.”

“What’re you gon’na do if we don’t go willingly?”

“I got a butt of a gun with your name on it.” The man’s face is close to Dutch’s now, each spitting a bit more venom back and forth as they speak to one another.

“You gon’na throw a pregnant omega off the side of a train?”

“Might make it a little softer and toss him from onto the tracks from the back.” The man growls, and Dutch’s nostrils flare.

“You got respect for anyone?”

“Ain’t gotta have respect when you don’ give a shit.”

“Throw us, then.” Arthur jolts. No, they can’t be thrown. Does Dutch really not care about his child? Had he really lied, and Arthur was simply played a fool? “I’m sure you’ll be excited to see the law at your door soon?”

“Sure. I love to see my colleagues every now and again.” Dutch’s brows furrow further and he growls in response. He doesn’t want to be thrown much, either, but if the omega needs to land on him in order to avoid losing the child, he’ll be that cushion. Without a doubt. “Get up.” The man demands, and Dutch moves to his feet. Arthur looks up at the alpha, eyes wide. What could he possibly be doing? Does he truly not care?

The man harshly grabs Arthur’s arm and yanks him to his feet. Immediately, Dutch bares his teeth at the man, hand on top of his where it’s touching Arthur. He tears the man’s hand away.

“Do not touch him.”

“Gon’na have to touch when I throw him off, might as well start now.” Arthur is still worriedly looking between Dutch’s eyes. Dutch is beyond livid, that’s pretty obvious from how the veins in his forehead are very clearly visible. The man places his hand on the back of Arthur’s head and tightens his fingers around Arthur’s hair, yanking him away from Dutch. Arthur hisses out from the pain of it, the others in the car looking up to see what’s going on. “Take this as an example, folks, that you should always purchase a ticket, and  _ don’t _ talk back to authority.”

Dutch clenches his fists at his sides and tries not to lurch forward to kill the bastard where he stands. There’s too many people. Too many witnesses. Not to mention the children, the ones he doesn’t want to permanently scar with an image of an alpha tearing another man’s throat out and allowing the blood to spill all over the floor of the car. He’d already seen enough before their age, but they simply don’t deserve what Dutch had to endure.

“Come along,” the man snaps, seeing the clenched fists, accompanied by grit teeth beneath Dutch’s mustache and grinning slyly. The man has another still standing behind him, but he doesn’t do much more than attempt to intimidate Dutch — in which case he is failing very heavily. He tugs on Arthur’s hair and the omega is forced to follow, more or less backwards. Dutch tails him, not wanting them to simply toss Arthur off of the back without a warning.

They pass across a few cars until they reach the last, Arthur’s footing keeping him anxious and frightened as he nearly slips from the train several times while treading backwards. Dutch reaches out to him every time to stop him from falling, but ends up snarling at the man as he demands that Dutch doesn’t lay a hand on Arthur until they’re safely outside of the car.

“Ain’t I just the luckiest bastard alive to meet Dutch van der Linde  _ after  _ he’s been beaten of his life of crime, what was it? Fifteen years ago?” The man lets up on Arthur’s hair, allowing him to stand. The omega looks confused and steps towards Dutch, slowly sliding behind him and looking out from over a shoulder. “Oh, the omega don’t know?”

“He doesn’t need to.” Dutch retorts quickly. “It isn’t his business, neither is it mine, nor yours.”

“Sure it is. Gotta bask in this moment for a few minutes before I throw you off.” Arthur begins to wonder if the man is truly waiting for a bridge to toss the both of them off of. At this point, he’d be even less surprised. “You gon’na tell him, or am I?” Arthur looks at the man, slowly scanning this stranger’s facial features as he steps closer and closer to Dutch, who slowly begins to growl again. It’s low and quiet, like a warning, much too late at this point.

“I’ll tell him in due time, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, but he looks so curious now. Don’t you.” Arthur shakes his head, and the man immediately snarls. “Don’t you!” Arthur jolts and quickly nods, moving himself closer to the alpha His hands grip the back of Dutch’s tailcoat and silently pull at the fabric. He wishes he’d never made this mistake, that he and Dutch could simply have a few minutes’ peace for once, sitting and having a pleasant conversation at that saloon. Happy. He’d just returned, why couldn’t he relax for a few days?

“Don’t speak to him like that, you son of a bitch!” Dutch roars, and Arthur’s hands disconnect from the alpha’s coat. He recognises now what this feeling is. The feeling that Dutch is above him, that he could do anything to Arthur at any point, simply because he’s an alpha.

Fear.

There’s a gun pulled on Dutch, but the alpha doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch. He’s not afraid of a bullet. He’s got his own revolver and Arthur… still has one as well. That’s right! The second man doesn’t seem to be armed, but is standing as if he is. Dutch disregards him and focuses on the task at hand. Arthur could take one of them, if not both. He’s seen the draw on the omega, and even he was surprised by it when it first appeared. As for how great of a shot he is, Dutch doesn’t know, hoping for the best but expecting the worst.

“You don’t have power over me, Van der Linde. You may be able to call your lackeys to you, the ones always listening to your demands and whims, ready to fulfill them as soon as they’ve rolled off of your tongue.”

“Don’t make me sound like such a terrible man. I do not treat my family like that.”

“Family?” The man looks about to laugh until he can’t breathe, lowering the gun and patting his hand once against his chest as it heaves with laughter. “You got a family out of that mismatched group of shit-talkin’ gunslingers like you?”

“Doubt you’d know how easy it is to accept good people into your family.” Dutch makes an assumption. It’s definitely viable, from the man’s appearance and actions in general. He seems like the man who would toss an omega to the floor and listen to its screams as he pounded into it.

Wait…

“Time to go, shitface. Which one’s first.”

“I’ll go.” Dutch says. He’s got a plan. It may not be as good as any of the others he’s had before, but he’s fairly certain it will work if the cards play out in his favour.

“Shame. We already decided for ya’s. Omega.” The man snaps his fingers and points at the ground beside his feet. Arthur is compelled to obey, but stays in his spot as Dutch is a wall, protecting him from the others. “Get your ass over here!” The man barks, and Arthur immediately moves, clambering to sit at the man’s feet. Dutch wants to reach out and grab him. Stop him from doing this, from willingly giving up his child like this. “You wan’na be tossed, or you wan’na be taken?” Arthur looks at him, confused.

“Sorry?” The omega tilts his head a bit, trying to play devil’s advocate and drag their conversation on a bit longer. He can’t do a bridge.

“You wan’na go,” the man mutters to the point of Dutch not being able to hear it. The alpha doesn’t need to hear him or read his lips to see that he’s far too close to Arthur, though, and he sounds out with that low growl again. “Or you wan’na take my delicious cock up that smooth ass of yours?” Those words are loud enough for Dutch to hear and he marches forward, stopped by the barrel of a gun pressed directly to his forehead.

“I’m alright with being thrown.” Arthur snarkily comments, shaking his head when the man refers to himself like that.

“Your choice.” The man frowns, looking at Dutch as he lugs Arthur to his feet. He moves towards the door to the very back railing, holding the back of Arthur’s neck straight as he pushes the omega forward and holds him close to the edge. “Still wan’na be tossed?” The tracks are moving hurriedly below the wheels of the car, the wooden planks connecting the steel beams passing at a ridiculously quick rate by now.

“Yes,” Arthur nods, and the man nods, hooking his arms around Arthur’s waist. The omega tenses, feeling as the man tugs his pants down to give a swift smack to his rear before stopping completely. The man backs up, giving the other a look of utter horror and terror. Arthur looks down to see what they’re staring at, remembering the brand.

“You…” the man mumbles, eyes wide. “He…” Dutch approaches slowly, watching as these two seem to be completely frozen in their places. They lurch forward after exchanging a few glances with one another and having a silent conversation over the sound of the train car wheels sliding across the tracks. The man tugs Arthur’s pants up and fixes his belt, patting him down and silently watching for any visible injuries. “I’m sorry for bothering you, I should’ve known.”

“Known?” Arthur mumbles, and the man nods, moving towards the door to the car and trying to unsubtly escape from Arthur. From whatever he’s done to make these two so uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“You’ve got the mark of the Iron Hand.” The man says, and Arthur furrows his brows. Dutch had said it was a reference to a book, and it sounded nothing like what was just said.

“The—”

“It’s his child, isn’t it?” The man says, and points to Arthur’s stomach. He’s so lost. “The Iron—” Both men look at one another and gulp. “What have we done, brother?” One of them asks the other, and in response, gets a silent, yet terrified, shrug. “We nearly killed his child.”

“Whose child? I doubt you’re thinking of the right person—”

“Cliff Everett.” Arthur shudders at the mention of the name. He’d never heard the last name before, but even the first name sends a violent shiver down his spine. He doesn’t want to think of this man, how do they know? Dutch watches from behind as they silently worship Arthur, yet shy away from him at the very same time. “The Iron Hand.”

“He—”

“Has already marked you.” The man nods, shaking his head. “I apologise sincerely. Please do not report me— report  _ us _ to him.” Arthur’s not sure what to make of this. What kind of a business did this man run? Clearly it was one of high standing.

That’s when he recognises the second man. He’s an alpha. He remembers that face. Saint Denis, that day with Molly and Dutch. He’d been one of the others standing behind Cliff and rooting him on. Was this first man another he simply does not remember quite yet?

Yes. He remembers now. This face, this disgusting face which he never thought he’d forget, but seemed to rid his mind of somehow, comes back to him. He’d been another standing behind. The one with a gun to his face. Has Dutch known them this whole time? Had he recognised them when they were assaulting Arthur in the street? Do they have history?

Arthur steps back towards Dutch and looks at the alpha with a confused expression. He’s not exactly sure what to make of the situation. What is he supposed to do with two terrified men, practically bowing and praying to him like he’s a god.

What the  _ hell _ kind of a business did Cliff run?

The two men apologise again before gently pushing past and telling both Dutch and Arthur that they will never bother the pair again. Arthur looks to Dutch, who starts laughing as soon as they’ve moved to the next car up. Arthur is still so lost on the subject.

“What was that?” Arthur asks.

“ _ That _ was amazing. Whatever you did to them was fantastic. And without saying a word? Even better.” The omega stares up at him.

“Did you know them?”

“Recognised them from Saint Denis, from that day with Molly.”

“You didn’t know each other from before?”

“No,” Dutch shakes his head, gently pulling Arthur into the car and shutting the door behind them. “What does it matter now? They’re gone. We can ride to wherever the hell this is taking us, and we’ll be in the clear again as soon as we ride back to Rhodes.” Dutch seems to be avoiding the question, despite having answered it. Like he’s not telling the truth, or at least the whole truth.

Dutch sits down in a seat, patting the spot next to him. Arthur takes a moment to sit, fingertips running over the pant leg covering the mark. What had they seen in that? What kind of meaning does it have, that Arthur doesn’t know about? Does Dutch know about it, and that’s why he’s being so secretive? The questions fly through his mind one by one.

Looking over, Dutch has a smug smirk on his face. Arthur slowly leans against his shoulder and looks off into nowhere, lost on what exactly he is supposed to think in this moment. He’s wondering so many things at once, he’s not sure if he’s even sure of where he is or why he is in this place.

All he knows is that Dutch is evading his questioning, and that utterly terrifies him.


	17. A Deciduous Chagrin

Arthur finds himself asleep after a long while of sitting and contemplating the whole situation. If Cliff was such a powerful man, feared even, why was Arthur capable of killing him so easily? He’d been drunk, yes, but it doesn’t seem like it should’ve been that easy. The cards simply never line up for Arthur like they possibly did in that case. Maybe someone else was behind it, or Cliff meant for Arthur to kill him, for whatever reason. The omega doesn’t like to touch on that subject, attempting to avoid it as he slowly wanders through the empty chasm of his dreamscape. It’s always been this way, and it seems that it always will. Arthur is boring; even his dreams are boring.

He aimlessly treads in one direction for a while, seeing a few mirrors just a little ways away and moving closer to them. If there is something to occupy his time here, he wants to find it before he’s about to wake up.

Picking up the pace, he nears the reflective surfaces and glances at himself in one of them. Lined up, there are four, but the fourth is caked in mud, eliminating the visual of the reflection. Arthur steps up to the second of the four, looking down to see himself in it. He doesn’t expect much more, so he simply lifts an arm and waves at himself to see if there’s something off about it. The reflection’s hand rises just as Arthur’s does, and he shakes his head, his tongue flattening to his soft palate before moving back down and creating a soft, disinterested noise.

Stepping to his left, he looks into the first of the four, obviously shattered from a closer look, but this time, he has to avert his eyes when he sees himself, bloody and battered again. It’s the sad version of himself from more than a month ago, and they make eye contact before Arthur is able to stumble away. Since that day, he’s felt extremely nauseous at the sight of blood, especially his own, and he’d been sick several times after that. With Cliff’s incessant beatings and words of disgust, it’s not surprising that Arthur doesn’t see himself as he had before. He sees a shell of a man, one who is far too old to be pregnant, and much too ugly for an alpha to truly find any interest in him. It had been similar before, but now, after all of the time with Cliff, it seems much more prominent.

His heart pounds in his chest as he approaches again, slowly scraping his eyes over his tattered body, linking eyes with himself again. The reflection shudders before lurching forward, Arthur sending himself back several feet and taking a deep breath before he hits the ground. It doesn’t hurt, considering that he’s trapped in his mind until he wakes up, but the idea of that reflection suddenly jumping out at him causes him to heave in breath after breath, staring at the fractaled mirror. The reflection has disappeared by now, but he’s still slow to rise to his feet again.

The omega steps to the side, avoiding the first mirror, and wanders closer to the third. He’s more cautious this time, seeing a rendition of himself standing there. It’s similar to the last reflection in the way that it isn’t quite copying Arthur’s movements and expressions, and rather standing back a bit. The reflection is holding its hands over its stomach, an absent look of sadness in its eyes. Arthur looks over its body, seeing the flatness of its front, even flatter than his actual stomach is. The reflection’s fingers slowly grasp at its shirt, eyebrows furrowing further.

Another figure moves into sight and Arthur jumps at first, but its face comes into view quickly.

It’s Dutch.

The figure depicting Dutch moves closer to the one depicting Arthur, arms hooking around Arthur’s waist. It looks to the Arthur on the outside of the reflection, making eye contact with him.

“Isn’t that better, Arthur?” Dutch’s hands run over Arthur’s reflection’s stomach, and the reflection nods slowly. It looks gone; empty. Even with Dutch’s chin placed so gently on its shoulder. “You look much better this way,” Dutch whispers, a grin on his face as he places a kiss on the reflection’s cheek and runs his hands further along the reflection’s shirt, lifting it. “Look at that gorgeous flat stomach, Arthur.”

The omega stares at the depiction of Dutch. Does Arthur, deep inside, think Dutch sees him as ugly when he’s pregnant? Sure, the extra weight will not be very appealing, but Dutch said he would love the child. Would love Arthur anyway. He can’t…

“Good we got you fixed up, yeah?” Dutch asks, and the reflection nods, keeping its eyes off of Dutch. He’s blank. Looking at his own face so sad, so lost, is unsettling. Any life with Dutch should be happy, shouldn’t it? Why does he see himself so unhappy with this man, even in a dream?

Arthur steps away from the reflection, glancing over at the last one. He’s afraid of what’s in store, but he nears it anyway. The dirt he thought was covering the image is rather soot, and Arthur drags his thumb across the dark substance, pulling it off and wiping it on his pants. Looking into the little spot he’s cleared, he sees his own eyes. They are reflecting him in real-time again, so he clears a large spot of the soot and steps back for whatever’s going to happen.

Looking around in the mirror at the dark abyss, he stands with more weight on one leg than the other, and suddenly sees another figure wander up behind him. He turns around to check behind him, shoulders tensing. There’s no one there, so he gently clears his throat and looks back at the mirror. He feels weighed down quite a bit by the time his eyes lock with the reflections, and he immediately notices a change in his stance. His stomach has grown a ridiculous degree, and he bends his spine to account for the weight.

“Arthur,” Cliff sings from behind him, and the omega tenses. Not him. Anyone but him. He can’t return to Arthur’s dreams like this, not when he’s sitting beside Dutch on a train. He knows he is, right? That Cliff can’t hurt him anymore? The man’s gone. He’s dead, and Arthur killed him.

Then, he recognises the gashes in Cliff’s throat. The alpha moves up to stand behind him, and he looks away from the mirror to actually see him standing there, now with a chain between his hands. The silver chain links lead up to Arthur’s neck and his eyes widen as he looks back up at the alpha. Not another collar. He thought he was beyond those days.

“You’ve been awful bad, haven’t you?” The alpha smirks and holds Arthur’s lower back with a hand while tilting his face towards the mirror. Arthur is forced to look Cliff in the eyes, though he still sees the gore along the alpha’s neck. It looks like it just happened. “Gonna need a punishment for that one, boy?”

“No,” Arthur slowly shakes his head, then quickens it when Cliff doesn’t respond.

“Wrong answer.” The alpha snarls and lurches forward, sinking his teeth into Arthur’s neck. A hand comes up behind Arthur’s head, forcing his mouth down to Cliff’s neck, but he keeps himself from biting down. As much as he hates this, as much as he hates the alpha, as much as he wants to bite down simply to hurt the man, he’s terrified about being mated to him for life.

The idea of this all being a dream leaves his mind, and he struggles as if his life depends on it. He feels Cliff’s arms tighten around him and he lets out a scream.

“I killed you! You aren’t, you aren’t—!”

“Arthur!” Dutch is tightly holding onto him when he wakes up, the alpha’s arms tightly wrapped around his middle where Cliff’s just were. “Calm down, it’s only me!” Arthur doesn’t recognise him or his voice quite yet, still waking up.

“Get off of me, you bastard!” Arthur shouts, able to shake himself free. He stands from the seat, chest heaving as he turns and looks back at Cliff. Only it’s not Cliff, it’s Dutch, sitting there with a look of worry on his face.

“Arthur?” Dutch asks, slowly reaching for him. “It’s alright, you’re alright.” Arthur stands there, still trying to shake the image of Cliff reaching out to him as Dutch is. He knows Cliff wouldn’t be so courteous as to wait for him to approach, he’d simply grab Arthur’s wrists. This is one of the many things differentiating the two of them, and Arthur’s lucky that he’s wound up with the lesser of seemingly two evils.

The omega rushes forward again, letting out a heavy breath when he’s finally back in Dutch’s arms. He can’t help the worry that Dutch prefers him without a child inside of him, and he has half a mind to pick Dutch’s pocket and down that vial of poison right now.

“You were shouting, I was worried,” Dutch whispers, stroking his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “Woke me up.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur mutters into Dutch’s shoulder, head bowed in slight shame. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, what with Dutch being the liar he is.

Arthur catches himself thinking this, shoulders tensing as he tries to rid his mind of the thought. Dutch has been nothing but wonderful to him so far, at least for the most part, and Arthur has to stop himself from thinking about how much of a liar he is? How terrible is that?

“It’s alright. I’d rather look at your stunning face than rest anyway,” Arthur freezes. Is he still asleep? Has he really allowed himself to dream this long, to dream of something so self-centred? Dutch wouldn’t say that, especially right to his face. The only time he would is only in a dream. He’s not that ridiculously moronic.

Arthur lets out a little laugh to fill his silence.

“Why are you laughing?” Dutch asks, tilting Arthur’s head up so their eyes can meet. “Something you find funny?”

“Jus’ what you said,” Arthur looks at him, trying to read the expression before him. It looks passionate and caring, yet senile in nature. “Laughin’ at your joke’s, all, Dutch.”

“Joke, Arthur?” Arthur’s eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head.

“You—”

“I meant what I said.” The omega stares into Dutch’s eyes for a moment before leaning forward, tilting his head just a bit, and pressing their lips together again. Dutch’s lips curve up into a smile and his hands rise to either side of Arthur’s jawline. Even if this is a dream, Arthur finds that he’s going to stay here as long as he can. In a world where Dutch will see him as handsome or beautiful no matter what, he can’t help but want to live here, to exist here for the rest of his life.

“I love you,” Arthur mutters, that smile reflecting onto his face despite never seeing Dutch’s perfectly happy grin. The alpha pulls back and looks into his eyes, reminding Arthur of when he was awake, of when Dutch did the same to say it to him the first time.

“I love you, too, Arthur,” Dutch places a short kiss against Arthur’s lips. “You and your beautiful blue eyes.”

This is a dream.

In this reality, he’s got no consequences. He’s got nothing to stop him from loving Dutch, from getting Dutch to love him for the rest of his life in this existence, for as long as it is here in Arthur’s mind. Maybe if he carries Dutch’s child, the man will love him, even through that ugly phase.

Reaching slowly for Dutch’s tailcoat, he presses his lips against Dutch’s again and slowly pushes Dutch back against the window. His hand subtly reaches for Dutch’s pocket, the alpha preoccupied with his own arms hooking around Arthur’s hips.

The vial is cold under Arthur’s fingertips, and colder as he pulls it out of Dutch’s pocket and into his palm. It’s unnerving to feel it as much as he does, but for all he knows, he could have somehow shoved his fingers into a bucket of cold water and is simply feeling it in his dream. It’s likely something else, but at the moment, that’s all he’s able to think of it being.

The small cork from the top of the vial is pulled off when Arthur is pulled in for a deeper kiss, his hands coming together to fiddle with the cork until it’s loose. There’s a moment where he wonders if he should really do this, if he should truly think about the consequences before Dutch ends up turning into Cliff and tugs him into something he’ll despise, and he’s trapped in this dream with the worst man, thankfully dead in the realm of reality.

“You want to do this here?” Dutch whispers to Arthur, despite there being no one around, and thus no reason to be so quiet. “Anyone could walk in.”

“I don’t care,” Arthur moves forward again and straddles Dutch’s hips, lips still working against the alpha’s as he finally pulls the cork from its spot and drops it to the floor of the car. He pulls back and looks Dutch in the eyes before quickly pressing the vial to his lips and downing it in a shot, Dutch jolting and pulling Arthur’s hand away far too late. Arthur swallows.

“Arthur!”

“Dutch?” The omega tenses when the alpha shouts so suddenly.

“Why—  _ why, _ Arthur?” Dutch pulls his hand down and looks at the glass object in the omega’s hand, the substance having sat in it slowly slipping along the inner walls like clear molasses. It looks disgusting, and even worse to swallow. “We— you didn’t tell me you were doing this, why did you do this?”

“You love me being thin, Dutch, I thought—” he cuts himself off, choking on the taste and burn of the poison. He coughs, moving backwards to stand from his spot on Dutch’s lap, holding the back of a seat as he gags and coughs, sputtering aimlessly. Dutch stands as well, moving to his side and gently rubbing his back. There’s not much he can do now, especially since that viscous liquid is now sliding down into Arthur’s stomach, soon to reach the child and kill it. Why could he have done this? What was going through his mind? Had he already made the decision before, and simply did not tell Dutch? “For a dream, this hurts like hell,” Arthur groans through a hoarse throat, coughing again.

Dutch freezes.

A dream?

That’s what caused this?

“You think you’re  _ dreaming, _ Arthur?” Dutch looks at him, brows furrowed. Arthur looks back up at him, eyes watering wildly from the burn in his throat and sinuses. Whatever was in that vial is surely going to kill him before it actually gets to the child.

“Sure, you called me stunning, Dutch, this has to be a dream.” The alpha is dumbfounded by Arthur’s logic, or lack thereof. He’d said that simply because Arthur  _ is _ stunning. He’s got gorgeous eyes and perfect lips, his shoulders are a perfect width for Dutch to hold onto and embrace, and then some. He’s the perfect omega for Dutch. How could he not think Arthur is stunning? How could Arthur not see it in himself, or not trust Dutch when he says something like that? Had Arthur not been paying attention when Dutch chased him through Saint Denis, and followed him onto a train?

“You think, because I called you stunning, you’re dreaming?”

“You wouldn’t say that in real life.”

“I think it’s pretty damn clear that you’re in real life, Arthur!” Dutch is more strict than angry, worried for Arthur’s health as he’d taken it on an empty stomach and where they don’t have a doctor easily accessible to them. They’re on a train for chrissakes, and he’s got no idea where they’re headed, or where they are. Hopefully it’s a town nearby, so Dutch can take Arthur into a doctor’s to make sure he didn’t just inject Oleander Sage or some other godawful plant.

“You— I—” Arthur mumbles, looking down at his stomach. What has he done now? Gone and screwed with the future, simply because he thought he was in the clear for once. Why doesn’t he think before he acts? Now his child will be a disgusting mess of deep red by the end of the day, and Arthur will have to watch as it all unfolds. Will have to feel it, as his child slowly dies and stops existing in his stomach.

He tries to tell himself that it will be alright, that Cliff’s child will easily be replaced with Dutch’s, but with how easily angered Dutch is, Arthur would likely piss him off before they could even mate with one another, or Dutch could breed him.

Arthur needs to shut his mouth, and stop doing things without properly thinking them through to the end.

“Arthur,” Dutch opens his arms, seeing the tears slowly gathering at the rims of Arthur’s eyes. He slowly drags in a breath through his nose, and the alpha pulls him into the embrace when he doesn’t take it. At first, the omega simply stands there, but then he wraps his arms around Dutch and sobs out. He’s just killed his child. He’s gone and killed the second one to ever live inside of him, and he’d not sure if he’ll be able to live with this. For the longest time he blamed himself over Isaac and Eliza’s deaths, but now, that doesn’t begin to compare in the slightest. He’s physically ruined this child’s possibility of life. He’s just killed his second child.

“Dutch, I—”

“I know, Arthur.” The alpha says, looking over Arthur’s shoulder as the omega sobs into his neck. He does know, far too well. “I know.”


	18. A Sweet Taste

Ten minutes later, Arthur is still breathing heavily against Dutch’s neck, arms tightening around the man when he feels a wave of the nausea from before hitting him. It’s violent and far worse than it was the first time, plucking him from Dutch easily with the sickness overtaking him. He covers his mouth as he gags, fumbling towards the door and harshly leaning over the railing when he gets there. Dutch is not far behind, still extremely worried for this omega, who is simply bent over the railing and doing nothing to rid his body of the liquid. He's simply tensing and releasing violently like he is. Dutch has noticed at this point, that the poor thing could do anything and Dutch would still be at his side.

It’s almost as if it’s destiny.

But Dutch doesn’t believe in destiny.

When Arthur takes a weak inhale and steadily pushes himself up, Dutch is there to straighten him.

“You alright?” Dutch looks him in the eyes, nodding a bit as he watches Arthur’s glassy eyes slowly move across his face. “Jesus Christ, Arthur, what have you done?” The omega stares so blankly at him, and he’s frightened by the lack of a response after a few moments. He slowly pulls Arthur’s arm over his shoulder and carefully moves the omega back into the car, sitting him down in a seat. “I’ll be back in a minute or two, Arthur, I’m going to find out where in the hell we are, and where we’re headed.”

The alpha is given a subtle nod before he’s headed off, set on getting information and getting Arthur to a doctor before he ends up dying in a train headed halfway to nowhere.

“Sir,” Dutch moves through the cars, catching someone’s shoulder when he reaches the last passenger car. “Could you tell me where we’re headed?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?” The man retorts, waving his hand to brush Dutch off. The alpha suddenly snaps, throwing a hand across the man’s face and barking at him.

“You give me what I want, cretin, and I’ll leave.” The man looks particularly offended by the words more than the physical violence, glaring up at Dutch. If it weren’t for the woman beside him, he likely would’ve stood and began a three-second fight before Dutch downed him and asked someone with a bit more courtesy.

“Saint Denis. We’re headed to Saint Denis.” The man jeers. “Should be headin’ through Valentine in a few minutes, if that’s  _ perfectly fine _ with you?” Dutch grabs him by the shirt collar and gets in his face, watching as the woman beside him moves to push the alpha’s hands away, but stops and allows him to have his way when she sees the look on Dutch’s face.

“You need someone to teach you manners. Ain’t you never had a Daddy to teach you?” The man glowers, shoving Dutch away and gazing around at the other passengers, looking back and directly at them by now. “Work on that.” Dutch walks past him and pats his shoulder, walking through the door to the last car and seeing Arthur there, panting and covered in sweat.

“Duh…” Arthur mutters when he sees a figure walk through the door, not quite sure who it is. He can only hope its his alpha, or someone who will help him rather than jostle him around more than he’s already been due to the train riding on the tracks.

“Arthur,” Dutch moves closer, drawing his fingers over the omega’s forehead. He seems to be burning up pretty bad, his body likely trying to heat up enough to kill whatever is inside. “Jesus,” he sighs, sitting down beside Arthur. “We’ll be getting to a doctor in just a few minutes, you’ll be just fine.”

“Wha’s happenin’, Dutch?” Arthur looks lost, like he’s completely forgotten the past few minutes. “You look scared.”

“I’m not, Arthur,” he lies, whispering. He doesn’t want to worry Arthur any more than he already has, and with his state, he clearly doesn’t need any more turmoil, mental, emotional, or otherwise. So Dutch simply shakes his head and pulls Arthur closer, the omega smiling.

“Tired,” Arthur slurs and drowsily nuzzles against Dutch’s shoulder as he leans over.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Dutch hears the omega groan, shaking his head.

“Gon’na sleep, Dutch. So tired…”

“Arthur. You can’t go to sleep.”

“Why not?”

“You’re sick, I don’t want you to get worse while you’re asleep.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur frowns. “Head hurts a little bit, but I’m okay.” Dutch shakes his head and lets out a little sigh, pulling away from the omega and being careful to keep him held up. No reason for him to fall over and knock himself unconscious for no reason. It’d likely be pretty simple, just from his state.

“Look at me,” Dutch uses a few fingers to lift Arthur’s head, those eyes dazedly meeting his own.

This is absolutely horrible.

“What?” Arthur asks, brows furrowing and face scrunching up in discomfort. He clearly wants to sleep, but Dutch doesn’t want him to get any worse.

“Tell me you won’t fall asleep.”

“I can’t, Dutch, I’m tired.”

“Arthur, you can’t.” Dutch hopes to keep this going until the train stops, seeing as Arthur will more or less need to get up and carry himself towards the doctor. If not, then Dutch will have to do it, and it’s looking to be the latter with how far out of it Arthur is. “Tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t,” Arthur says as his eyes slowly fall closed. Dutch sighs and uses a thumb to pull one open.

“Arthur.” The alpha voice makes itself known, loud and clear in Arthur’s mind. Despite his suffering, he sits up straight and looks Dutch directly in the eyes.

“Dutch,” he breathes, slightly more awake. He leans forward and locks his lips to Dutch’s, the man immediately recognising the lingering sweet taste on Arthur’s tongue and quickly fearing for Arthur’s life.

Arsenic.

That goddamn doctor gave his omega— his  _ pregnant _ omega, arsenic, and thought he could get away with it by mixing it with sugar.

With the amount in that vial, he seriously begins to think it’s lethal.

It can’t be, no, Arthur can’t be taken from his hands this easily. Not after Dutch has put up such a fight to keep him near. Of course life has to send an unexpected jab in their direction, with something Dutch can’t control or even assist with.

“Why aren’t you kissing back?” Arthur leans back with a pout on his lips, eyelids still drooping a bit, but at least he’s awake and moving now. “Did I do somethin’?”

“Not at all,” Dutch shakes his head and moves forward a bit. He pauses before connecting their lips, not caring much for tasting that poison any more than he already has. It’s less for a fear of risking his own health, and more for the simple taste of it. It’s sweet, thus addicting, and could cost them to lose their chance of getting off of the train and getting Arthur to a doctor as soon as possible.

Dutch keeps his bearings, paying close attention to the movement of the train car as they move along the tracks, still gently touching Arthur’s cheek as he kisses the man.

It’s a morbid thought to imagine that this is the last time he will ever get to kiss Arthur, but it’s a thought which passes through his mind nevertheless.

“Why you wan’ me so much, Alpha?” Arthur grins a bit, arms looped loosely around the back of Dutch’s neck. His fingers are constantly sliding from their spots, but they are often readjusted to hold on a bit tighter and resist that slipping. “I’m not in heat, am I?”

The pure fact that Arthur has to ask the question causes Dutch to fill with even more alarm.

This is a clear sign of the poison already getting to him. The confusion, the sweating, the drowsiness.

It’s already too late, Dutch thinks, but he tries to shake himself from the thought by shaking his head in response and pulling himself to Arthur’s lips again.

It’s sweet.

It’s sweet, and Dutch wishes they’d gotten a chance to eat, because maybe Arthur wouldn’t be showing the effects so soon, at such a worrying degree.

Maybe Arthur wouldn’t’ve downed the poison so fast if he’d been paying more attention to those hands on his waist.

Maybe if Dutch had just spoken with Arthur over the child in that saloon, this wouldn’t’ve happened.

Maybe if Dutch had been watching over his shoulder when they were ambushed, Arthur would never have been captured.

Maybe if Dutch hadn’t picked Arthur from the lot, they would’ve never come in contact with one another, and Arthur would’ve had a better life with someone else.

Arthur is slowly pulling him closer, his body letting off a gentle scent of pleasure as he lifts his legs just a slight bit and moves to straddle Dutch again. In general, Arthur is confused and dazed, but he knows Dutch is right here and that his body wants the alpha, in any way it can have him.

His body craves the touch of the alpha, not recognising the pregnancy as much with the poison quickly working its way through his system. His thighs tremble for just a second as he feels Dutch’s hands running over him, the pleasure of the moment washing over him and adding to the confusion and haziness he feels, but he doesn’t mention it aloud. No reason to worry Dutch even more than he clearly is, despite what the man may say. Even in his state, Arthur can tell that he’s openly lying.

“Arthur,” Dutch groans, feeling the omega grinding weakly against him. This is the worst time. The absolute worst moment possible. “No, not that far.”

“But Dutch…” Arthur whines, trying to coax Dutch into it with another hip roll, this time stronger and easier to feel for the alpha. “You…”

“Hush, we can’t.” The alpha grabs Arthur’s hips tightly and stops them from moving, drawing a soft whimper from the omega, who is craving the feeling now. Craving anything to alleviate the headache pounding at the base of his skull and slowly getting worse. If he satisfies the urge to have a loving alpha in that way, perhaps it will cancel out the pain.

This is when the train comes to a stop, Dutch looking up to see Valentine outside the windows. Finally. It couldn’t’ve come any time sooner. The alpha stands and sets the omega to the side, holding a hand out for Arthur, who looks at it, confused.

“Come on, Arthur, we’re here.”

“Where?”

“Valentine. We’re getting you to the doctor’s.” Arthur slowly shakes his head, not understanding why he needs to get to the doctor. They were just at the doctor, why would he need to see another so soon afterwards. “Get up. We need to go.”

The omega hesitates for a few moments longer, Dutch eventually getting tired of it and bending down. Hooking his arm around Arthur’s waist, he stands and slowly walks the both of them towards the door. Arthur has very little say in the matter, simply trying to walk at the same pace as Dutch to keep up with him as he moves so quickly. In reality, Dutch is walking rather slowly, but for Arthur, everything is passing by pretty quick.

They meander through town, Arthur looking around dazedly. He still feels tired, but with the stimulation and the movement, he’s beginning to wake up a bit more. It’s not much, but it’s helping Dutch maneuver him just a little.

“Come on,” Dutch coos to Arthur as he stumbles on something, arm tightening around Arthur’s waist to stabilise him. “Just a little ways further.” Arthur tries to keep up, and arm draped around Dutch’s shoulders as he stumbles on beside the alpha. “We’re almost there.”

Dutch can see the sign, looking at it and almost praying to God that Arthur will be saved by this man. He’s not the man from Saint Denis by any means, but Dutch isn’t sure if he wants to see that hellbent man again. He poisoned Arthur, blatantly lying to Dutch’s face.

He supposes he understands how those he talks to feel when they recognise his ploys now.

Trudging just a little bit further, Dutch pulls Arthur up the few little steps and pushes the door open, looking immediately to the doctor standing preoccupied behind the desk. There are a few other random customers in the shop, but Dutch doesn’t care in the slightest as he pulls Arthur up slightly straighter against his side.

“We need your help,” Dutch says, and the doctor looks up to make eye contact with Dutch. “Please, Doc, you gotta save him. Somehow, any way.”

“Bring him back here,” the doctor hobbles over to a door, pulling it open and gesturing for the alpha to bring Arthur through the threshold. He sits Arthur down where the doctor points, looking to make sure the omega is still conscious. “What in the hell has happened to him?”

“Arsenic, I’m sure of it.”

“How long ago?”

“Maybe twenty, thirty minutes?”

“How big of a dose?” The doctor looks him over, pulling his eyes open to look into them. They are hardly responsive, and the doctor bites his lip in slight panic.

“Small vial, size of his middle finger.”

“Where in God’s name did you get that much arsenic?” The doctor pulls a few drawers open, clearly digging for something. “And you let him drink it, or did you force him?”

“No, no. We got it from a doctor, who gave him a choice for killing the child inside of him.” The doctor looks up with a look of horror and disgust.

“This omega is  _ pregnant _ and you let him drink arsenic? What kind of a maniac are you?”

“He told us it was some other poison, one that would barely affect him, and would get rid of the kid without much hassle.”

“Well, at the rate he’s goin’, you’ll get rid of the kid, but I doubt it’s as little hassle as you want it to be.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Dutch growls lowly, a glare on his face as this aggravating doctor gets slightly more frantic with his searching, looking through drawers a second time in his alarmed state.

“Your omega’s dyin’ pretty quick, sir.”

“That much is pretty damn clear. Make it fucking stop.” Dutch snaps, and Arthur looks up at him. He hasn’t heard Dutch speak like this before, even through his mind slowly fogging over.

“I’m tryin’, sir, I can’t seem to find the—”

“What are you looking for.” Dutch stamps closer, intent on finding whatever the hell this man is searching for and obviously glazing over. His omega is dying. Arthur needs something, anything.

“A potent health cure, but I’ll need you to step away from the—”

“Go get it from your stock. Come back here and force it down his fucking throat, I don’t give a shit. Make it so that he lives.” Arthur is beginning to drift off when he says this, Dutch looking up and snapping his fingers at the omega. He gains Arthur’s attention for a second. “I told you to stay awake. That still applies.”

“I’m sorry, sir, we’re fresh out of all health tonics, as is the general store—”

“You are a doctor with a seemingly unlimited supply of health tonics, and you’re  _ out _ ? Is that what you’re saying to me right now?” Dutch demands an answer from him, his chest heaving a bit as he begins to lose what little sanity he’d had left after Kieran.

This is all his fault.

He’s killed a third, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to handle this much longer. None of them deserved this, aside maybe Molly, but even in this situation, he can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of panic and alarm.

The doctor moves from behind a desk when Dutch moves and subtly pushes him out of the space, pointing at Arthur.

“Keep him awake. I’ll look.” Dutch looks back down at the drawers when he sees the doctor slowly step away from the alpha. He’s pulling each one open to search for this health tonic, hopefully going to find that gilded label and square bottle beneath the disorganised mess of items stuffed in small spaces.

After the fifth and final desk drawer with no luck, Dutch’s elbows slam down against the wooden surface. His forehead is in his hands as he thinks of what exactly to do. The first idea is to mug someone standing outside for a tonic, or possibly pay someone to get it off of them, but he’s worried about whomever it is taking it wrong and alerting the law. With the bounty hunters just next door, he’s not sure he wants to tempt that fish.

“What can I do?” Dutch asks, voice cracking under the pressure, just as he is. “What in the hell can I do to save him?”

“You can go to another town nearby and—”

“There  _ are _ no other towns nearby!” Dutch hisses out. “Not close enough, he’ll be… he’ll be gone by then if I take him.”

“Then perhaps I can watch over him while you are out of town, sir?” Dutch despises the idea as soon as it makes itself known. He doesn’t trust Arthur with anyone anymore, not even himself. Not even Dutch is worthy of handling Arthur, and that much is pretty blatantly obvious right now.

Then again, it might also be the very last possibility. This man is a doctor, no matter how obviously screwy his mind is, and he’ll know how to hold Arthur over until Dutch returns within a day. Less than a day, if he’s fast. Snags a horse from outside of a saloon and makes a break for it, possibly.

If he pushes that horse beyond its capabilities, he should be able to reach Strawberry and stab it with stimulant before making a race to return at an even faster pace.

“How can I know to trust you?”

“I am a doctor, sir, I have no ill intentions of—”

“The last man I entrusted his life with gave him arsenic with the promise of a light stomachache. Look where that got us. If you think I’ll believe you, simply because of a title, you’re completely wrong.” Dutch looks up at him, brows furrowed in heavy frustration and pressuring anxiety. He looks at Arthur, who is panting and sweating profusely again.

The doctor gives Dutch a look and sighs, glancing down at the floorboards.

“In the second drawer on the left, there’s a ruby in a tin.” Dutch looks at him in confusion, urging him on with his frantic hands. “It’s my most prized possession. Take it with you.”

“How will—”

“I entrust my most prized possession to you, in hopes that you will return with it for the trade of your most prized possession.” Dutch would never call Arthur his possession. The omega is not an object, but the deal seems sound.

The alpha reaches into the drawer and retrieves a deep red gem with one face about the size of his palm, holding it in his fingers before nodding.

“Take good care of him, please.” Dutch sounds desperate, taking a breath before the last word. He steps around the desk as he sets the ruby in his pocket and kneels next to Arthur.

“Dutch?” Arthur asks, breathing out when he finally sees the alpha so close.

“I’ll be back soon, Arthur,” the omega panics immediately. Not again. He can’t be left with someone else again, without Dutch nearby, he’ll be raped again. He’ll have to carry another child, and this will all happen again, or Arthur will simply shoot himself in the stomach if it happens again. He can’t deal with another child unless it’s Dutch’s.

His thoughts race until the alpha’s lips connect with his temple and Dutch stands.

“Be good, Arthur. I’ll see you in less than a day.”


	19. A Glimpse of the Past

“Arthur, come out here, boy!” Arthur looks up from the sheet of grimey parchment he’d been trying to read. His mother had handed this letter to him long ago, having sat down with him on multiple occasions and attempted to teach him what it says. It’s been years, so the pencil is smudged beyond recognition at this point, but Arthur still tries to understand it. Understand what it means, rather than just the words on the page.

Ten years old, and he’s still working hard at it, understanding a new word through context every few times he reads it. He’d asked his father for help once, but it was an unrecognised mistake before the words even passed Arthur’s lips.

Arthur pushes himself from the small desk he’s sitting at, wandering out of his room and glancing around for his father, who had called for him. The man’s voice sounds again from outside of the house, the tone of the words much harsher than it had been the first time the man spoke. The omega hurries in his stride, pulling the door open and looking out to see his father. The man wields a gun, glaring directly at Arthur when he makes himself known.

“Get out here.” Arthur is quick to shut the door behind him and approach, much more tedious when nearing his father. He may be a powerful foe to anyone his size, but he’s still an omega, and he fears his father more than death at this point. “Take hold’a that gun.” A shotgun with a barrel almost twice the length of the omega’s arm is dropped to the ground to clatter against the dirt. Arthur can tell that his father’s been drinking, but doesn’t mention it for fear of being knocked upside the head like he’s been multiple times in this man’s presence.

Arthur leans down and picks it up, looking at it.

“Now, I un’nerstand I haven’t been the best daddy, but you and I need to find some common ground, son.” Arthur slowly nods, conditioned to agreeing with his father. “Tha’s why we’re goin’ huntin’.” Arthur smiles, giddy. Even if he is with this horrible man, he’ll be able to run around in the woods with his dog, Copper.

“Are we takin’ Copper, Daddy?” Arthur asks, a little smile on his face as he glances around for the dog. She doesn’t seem to be around anywhere, but he’s sure if he whistled, the pup would come running. He and that dog are the absolute best of friends, in human terms. It’s awfully sad to think about it, really, but Arthur’s got no one else. He can’t be in school due to his father’s criminal record, and even if that wasn’t an issue, it’s not like they have money to pay for any of the classes anyway.

“Not quite, son.” The man slurs, picking up a bottle of beer from beside his foot. Arthur’s surprised he hadn’t noticed that before, but brushes it off as he looks back at the firearm in his hands. “You know how to handle that thing?” Arthur nods. It was his father who taught him how to properly hold a weapon, especially one of this size, and it’s a damn shame the man can’t even seem to remember the one fond memory Arthur has of him.

“O’course, you taught me!” Arthur smiles, and his father looks down at him with a look of discomfort, of disgust, at the look on his son’s face. Arthur wonders if his father simply hates him. Wouldn’t be a surprise. The man’s always blamed Arthur for his wife’s death, as if Arthur could’ve done anything about it one way or another.

Arthur gets impatient, whistling through his parted front teeth for his dog to show herself. His father tenses beside him, but he pays little mind to it as he looks around for the pup. He hears a muffled barking, then the dog rushes around the corner and barrels at the pair of males standing there. She skids to a stop in front of Arthur, tongue lolled to the side in a happy pant. She’d walk off the end of the earth for Arthur, and the boy takes a large amount of pride in this fact.

“Hey girl,” Arthur lowers the barrel of the gun as soon as he sees her, smiling widely and leaning forward to pat her head. The dog excitedly laps at Arthur’s hand, looking up at his eyes as soon as she’s flung her tongue over a couple of fingers. “We’re goin’ huntin’!” Arthur exclaims, and the dog must’ve sensed the happiness in Arthur’s voice, because she howls quietly and treads her front paws as she sits in one spot.

“Don’ get ahead’a yourself, boy.” Arthur’s father, whom he’d almost forgot was standing there beside him, reaches down and pulls the barrel of the shotgun up to line up between the dog’s eyes. Immediately, she backs away. She knows what kind of things this weapon does, or at the very least, the amount of noise it makes.

“Daddy? What’re you doin’? You’re pointin’ it at Copper!” The man doesn’t reply, simply returning the barrel to its target when Arthur tries to move it away. It’s an easy task, especially with the alcohol adding to the alpha’s strength, already festering inside of those arms. The dog is clearly upset, and Arthur doesn’t want to put a rift between them, simply because his father is refusing to pull the barrel of the gun away from between the dog’s eyes.

“Pull the trigger, boy.” Arthur completely stops when he hears these words, shaking his head. He watches as his father raises a hand, the scent of anger tinging the air. The bottle of beer smatters against the ground and the gun is pulled from his grasp. Arthur is only able to shove himself back a few feet before he watches his best friend take lead through her skull. They pass all the way through, streams of thick red liquid pouring out after they hit the ground. The pool of blood only forms after a few moments, the dry ground soaking up as much liquid as it possibly can, even if it is the blood of the innocent; the completely untainted.

Copper falls over limp, and Arthur is frozen to his spot. His father has killed his one and only friend, and Arthur doesn’t have a clue as to why. There was nothing leading up to this day, and it’s come far too soon to be registered as true in his mind.

His father throws the firearm to the ground and glares at Arthur as he snarls, turning around to grab Arthur’s shirt collar.

“You little shit. I told you to do somethin’, and you shake your head at me? Is that how you’re supposed to treat me?” Arthur tenses against the words. He’d usually be shying away from them, but now he’s only staring into his father’s livid eyes with a broken, sad expression.

When his father marches away, picking up the shotgun on his way, Arthur finally drops to his knees and looks lost. His best friend, gone like that. At the drop of a hat.

“Copper?” Arthur crawls closer, hands in the dirt and knees scraping his pant legs against the dirt. His fingertips don’t mind the red painting them as soon as they near the dog’s lifeless body, and he lifts her.

His mother would’ve been absolutely furious with what Arthur’s father has done. But she’s not here.

She’s dead, too.

Copper was just another person his father had to take from him.

Granted, his mother’s death was not at the hands of his father, but it doesn’t make the sting any less painful. His father has taken it upon himself to make Arthur’s life a living hell, and that much is blatantly obvious.

“Copper.” Arthur repeats, looking at the corpse of his best friend. His hand moves to pet over her head, but with the shattered bone, however caked in blood, visible, he can’t. His fingers tense and relax multiple times. He doesn’t want to touch her skull. He doesn’t want to hurt her any more, even though she might already be dead.

She’ll feel it.

Her soul will, wherever it’s floating around now.

His mother had taught him that word: soul. She’d explained it in the most beautiful of ways. Arthur always loved when she told him what words meant. She’d use words to explain words, and the entire idea of it fascinated Arthur. How crazy English was, he always thought. So many people coming up with a bunch of words, like puzzle pieces. They link together so easily, and as soon as you understand one word, you understand two, then four, and so on.

He wonders what Copper would’ve talked like if she were a human. If she had a brain like his, which could talk. Arthur couldn’t talk much English anyway, but he never cared. His mother never cared. Copper never cared.

They always looked at him and saw something bigger, something worth more than Arthur really was.

His mother saw him as a good kid. Always told Arthur that he’d grow up and make a change in the world, said that he’d still do it, even if he had to die for it. Said that those were the best kinds of people, the ones who would do anything for the world to be a better place. They wouldn’t kill unless it was necessary, and they would happily die if another good person got to live. She always said that if one person were good, everyone would eventually be good. And Arthur wanted to believe that he’d be the one to start that chain, but he could already tell that his mother had, or maybe her mother, or hers.

All that mattered was that he was a good person, and he wanted to stay that way. He’ll fight for what’s right.

Copper saw a new adventure with him every day. Some days were spent in the garden pulling yellow flowers and getting the colour all over Arthur’s fingers and all over Copper’s mouth, or down by a nearby stream fishing, when Copper would immediately run through the water and make all of the creatures swim away as soon as she saw one. She was the closest thing he’d had to a friend, and his mother was completely right about Arthur needing someone to spend his time with. His days would’ve been so much worse to handle if she weren’t there by his side.

Everything changed as soon as his mother started getting sicker and sicker, to the point of his father snapping at Arthur out of stress. It was stressful for all of them, but his father seemed to be taking it the worst.

Then the yelling started. Arthur would be in his room, sometimes afraid to leave his bed, when they would yell. His father would start with something along the lines of complaining about how little his mother does, and it would be retorted with the same amount of fire before they’d go completely at it for half an hour at a time, then split and go to separate rooms for the night. Arthur would be terrified for those nights, his father often taking his frustrations out on Arthur’s bare thighs with a belt or something harsher.

His mother had been the one to clean the house, but after her death, his father sprang that duty on Arthur. He had to learn what to use on what surfaces, finding himself sick and tired of the stench of bleach after only a few days of using it.

When his father would drink, he would have to pull out the bucket with the sponge and fill the bucket with water, then pour in the bleach and scrub the floor where his father’s bile often lied for several hours. In reality, the man was disgusting. Then again, he did have a purpose in life, and that much was pretty damn clear as soon as Arthur had the mind to think about it. He lived to bring those he hated down, to send them where they belonged. In the case of Arthur, he despised his son. Never wanted him, and ended up taking care of him for years, alone, before running off and dumping the kid in a nearby town.

At the very least, Arthur finds a sense of longing in his father. He’s earned his anger; his fire from the man, despite him being an omega.

“Copper,” Arthur repeats again, petting along her side, slowly being coated with thick red as he runs his dirtied fingers over her coarse fur. He doesn’t care. She needs this, even if his fingers are covered in a disgusting mess of red. “Good girl, you’re a good girl.” Arthur coos, the tears finally pushing themselves up and over the edge of his eyelids.

The hour finishes with Arthur sobbing, holding his dog close to his chest as he slowly realises that she’s gone. He realises what he will be without for the rest of his life, and it is far from difficult to feel the immense pain with the knowledge of it.

He makes a plan for a grave before anything else, looking over towards a small apple tree he’d planted. Copper was there with him when he planted her, trying to eat the seeds as he dug the hole and stopped keeping watch on them for a few minutes. She was caught with only one in her mouth, and Arthur still got the chance to plant a few. It was getting to be his height by now. If he weren’t a child of nature, he would’ve thought to carve his height into the branches, but he doesn’t want that guilt on his shoulders. That tree is like a child to him.

“Hello, Ruby,” Arthur would coo to the tree, always smiling when it would grow deliciously red apples. His father teased him on several occasions about how small the apples were, but Arthur loved them. They were sweet, and they came from his work.

When he walks into the shed to find a shovel, his father calls from the house.

“What’re you doin’ out there, boy?” He still sounds drunk, and he’s got that bottle of beer in his hand.

“Findin’ a shovel, s’all.”

“For what?”

“Gon’na bury Copper.” Arthur replies, but he’d never really thought about how dangerous those words were, because he didn’t expect his father to waltz on out to the shed after him and beat him across the back for it.

“You leave that dog alone, y’hear? It’s dead, boy. Get over it.” His father lays a hand on him one more time before he leaves, and Arthur is left alone. The sun is setting. He should work quickly.

Pulling the shovel from its hook, Arthur treads on out to the tree and begins digging. He thinks of whistling, but the fresh tear tracks stop him somehow, if not the reason for the tracks in the first place. He’s still thinking about Copper, and rightfully so.

He’s finished with digging at about midnight, wandering over to Copper and picking her up into his arms. It’s a stretch, but Arthur can handle her, even if she’s got a little extra weight from the lack of air in her lungs. The lungs which would never breathe again, thanks to Arthur’s father.

Arthur is careful when lying his best friend into her grave, petting his still-red fingers over her fur before smiling a little and sitting down. He rambles about the past for a while. It’s about dawn when he finally shovels the dirt back into the hole and says his final and silent goodbyes, then moves back towards the house.

He enters the building and moves to his room, looking around in the dark until he finds a mirror and checks to see if the bags under his eyes are obvious. If they show up now, surely, they’ll be there when he wakes up, he thinks, so he gets to bed immediately afterwards. His father didn’t want him touching the dog, didn’t want her buried, so he can’t leave any lasting evidence, other than the fact that Copper’s corpse has gone and disappeared.

He wakes up in the morning and meanders out into the main room. This is where he meets his father, looks him in the eye, and tells the man that he’s just buried the dog, despite what he’d been told, and despite the planning to avoid the topic altogether.

His father’s reaction is less than passionate, unceremoniously dragging Arthur to his room and barking at the boy to gather what he needs. The man tosses a pistol and a few dollars in the bag Arthur slowly gathers before demanding Arthur get on the horse outside, to which the omega follows orders. Their exchange is silent aside the commands given, but Arthur is almost happy for this fact. He doesn’t want to mourn his father when he’s dropped off in the middle of nowhere.

He’s not, thankfully, and his father half-assedly spits in Arthur’s face before leaving him in Leatherport to essentially die.

He doesn’t, thankfully, and he meets Mary there. They’re hardly friends before her father demands Arthur stay away, simply because he’s on the street half the time and starving the other. Doesn’t matter to Arthur, though, because Mary Gillis reminds him of his mother. She smiles like her, has her dimples, and talks like her. Arthur loves her from the sound of her voice alone, and her pretty face is just a lucky perk, as he’s always thought. She’s always been too pretty for a fool like Arthur, but she never cared.

Just like Copper.

He secretly wishes everyone was like Copper. Loving without caring that Arthur is an omega, or that they’ve got differences. He wishes Mary didn’t care as much as she did, even though she pretended that she didn’t. He wishes he cared a little less about Eliza and Isaac, but it always seems too late to apologise for that.

It’ll always be too late to apologise.

Always too late.


	20. All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go

“Do you have a name, sir?” Dutch asks, catching himself on the doorframe and looking back at the man who seems quite a bit older in the dim light.

“Graham. And you?” He doesn’t worry about keeping his name a secret with this man, trusting him, just as the man trusted Dutch with the gem in his pocket.

“Dutch.” The alpha pushes himself out of the room, through the shop, and into the street.

Dutch is able to snag a horse from outside of the saloon, luckily looking confident enough in his strides to seem as if it’s his horse. Someone in the saloon would disagree pretty strongly, but that doesn’t matter. Dutch makes it out of Valentine in less than three minutes, and is at a powerful gallop within four.

He takes much too long to reach Strawberry, the horse having given quite the kickback when Dutch had been pushing it so hard. Luckily, he’d been able to pull a couple of oatcakes out of the saddlebags and offer them to the horse while still running. After that, he kept at a constant speed until he saw that sign.

He is barely able to pull the reins when he sees a chicken run across his path, jolting when it happens. There truly is no reason to cause a fuss when he’s got to be in and out quickly.

Shooing the chicken away from the horse’s hooves when he pulls himself down, he rushes towards the general store and tries not to burst in when he gets there. The people loitering on the porch pass him a sideways glance before continuing in their conversations, simply shrugging him off.

Dutch moves quickly to the shelves and skims them with his eyes, pulling the square bottle down. He looks it over to make sure it’s what he wants before glancing up and locking eyes with the golden label of the potent miracle tonic. Setting the one he has back in its spot, he lifts the miracle tonic and gazes at it before scooping several others off of the shelf and setting them down on the counter. The shopkeep looks at him with a confused expression for a moment until Dutch has a moment to think and turns around. Searching the shelves with his eyes again, he snags up a bottle of the potent horse stimulant and sets it beside the other four bottles.

“Gettin’ up to somethin’ or other, sir?” The shopkeeper has the gall to go and say, Dutch pushing the bottles closer to the man and shaking his head.

“Not at all. My—” he’s not sure what he and Arthur are at this point. They might as well be mates, but it was never made completely true, and they had never really discussed it. There was the moment in the doctor’s office, when Arthur had said that they were partners, but that means close to nothing in terms of a physical mate mark. Then again, they are close enough to the last thing either of them have, and that’s far from an exaggeration. “My mate is dying.” The shopkeeper's expression completely changes.

“Oh?” He counts the bottles as he slides a list of the shop’s stock closer and scratches off five items.

“In Valentine, he… didn’t look too good before I left.”

“Valentine? Why’d you come all the way up here? Twenty-five, by the way.” Dutch immediately goes for his pocket, pulling out the cash and flicking the bills as he inwardly counts them.

“They were out. Couldn’t believe it, but the doctor  _ and _ the general store were out.” He hands the money over, the shopkeeper counting the bills and setting them inside of a box under the desk. Dutch places the rest of his cash back into his pocket and scoops the bottles up, the glass clattering against itself as they are brought up into the alpha’s arms. “Thank you, but I really must be going.”

“I don’t blame you,” the shopkeeper lifts a hand as to send him off with good wishes. “God be with you, good sir.” Dutch passes a small smile to the man, opening the door and pushing past all of the men catterwhalling at the same thought the shopkeeper had initially had. Is that truly what all people think about when they see someone carrying as much as he is? Especially of what he’s carrying specifically?

His mind doesn’t have much time to stir on the idea as he pulls himself up onto the horse he’d ridden in with and sets the miracle tonics in the saddle bags. He’s careful to pull the buckles tight, leaning forward and tugging on the reins. The stimulant can be injected as they ride.

Dodging yet another animal, Dutch doesn’t care to look at what it is, he rides out of Strawberry. Dutch keeps the bottle of stimulant in his hand as he guides the horse until they’re far enough away from the town, finally unscrewing the cap and pulling the syringe out. He draws the liquid into the needle and pats the horse’s neck before shoving it in on the other side, injecting it. The stallion whinnies as the pain runs through its neck, but Dutch doesn’t seem to care as he draws the syringe out again, replaces it in the bottle, and tosses the empty glass bottle to the side.

Taking hold of the reins again, he snaps them down a few times and stays silent.

Under his serious façade, Dutch is terrified. He’s worried Arthur is already gone, though he continues to push the thought out of his mind as much as he can. He recognises that it’s there, and he tries to think of something else. Anything else. He finds it tremendously difficult when Arthur’s always been on his mind recently, and the man’s scent is sticking to his clothes. It seems like it’ll be there for the rest of Dutch’s life from how strong it is, but he knows that it will anyway, seeing as Arthur will be alive to replenish it. He’ll be alive when Dutch gets there. He’ll be okay. Dutch will hand him the miracle tonic, and he’ll be better almost instantly, because Dutch wills it to happen, and he’s going as fast as he can.

He hopes that their luck finally changes. That men like him and Arthur will be lucky, just this once. That Dutch won’t have to watch another die from his wrongdoings. This time, at the very least, he supposes that it won’t be because he strangled the omega to death, or because he fired a bullet at the omega.

It’ll purely be because of his ignorance.

 

* * *

 

Dutch rides just as hard as he had the first time, bent over the neck of the horse to keep them going faster. He’s still worrying as much as he had been when he first left Strawberry, but this time, it’s a bit harder to stop himself from thinking those things.

Coming up on Valentine is both the best feeling Dutch has ever experienced, and the worst.

He tries not to think about it, simply keeping his eyes on the dirt path and keeping his head low. He pulls the reins a bit when he’s near the saloon, tugging them off to the right and pulling himself off of the horse when he’s hidden well enough. Dutch softly thanks the horse as he pulls the buckles loose and lifts the four bottles out of the saddlebag by their necks, not bothering to buckle them again.

Moving out towards the middle of town, he locks eyes with that sign. It takes everything in him not to shout Arthur’s name and wait outside, knowing the man wouldn’t come bounding to the door like Dutch wishes he could. He will, surely, after he’s downed all four bottles of the miracle tonic.

He takes a breath as he jogs up to the doctor’s shop, pushing the door open and only briefly making eye contact with the man before he rushes to the back room. The doctor opens his mouth to say something, but Dutch doesn’t hear him, even if he does speak. He’s focused on Arthur, who is lying back, asleep on a bedroll splayed out along the floor. At first, Dutch wants to curse out the doctor, but seeing where they are, there was likely not much of a choice.

Sitting himself down next to Arthur, he sets three of the bottles beside himself and gently shakes Arthur’s shoulder before unscrewing the cap on one of the bottles.

“Hey, Arthur, I’m back,” Dutch whispers, gently shaking Arthur again, and leaning down so that he’s the first face Arthur wakes up to. “Arthur, my sweet, I brought medicine.” He smiles a bit, picturing those eyes opening and a smile being brought to Arthur’s face as well.

In the dim light, Dutch begins to notice the paleness of Arthur’s face. His lips are almost the colour of the rest of his face, and his eyes are darker now.

“Arthur?” The alpha shakes Arthur’s shoulder a bit firmer, trying to tell himself that looks can be deceiving, that the light might just be falling on Arthur’s face a bit wrong and he looks to be a little sicker than he had been when Dutch left. “Omega,” he tries again, leaning closer and cupping the man’s cheek with his empty hand.

His elbow softly rests a little low on Arthur’s chest, but from the position, he can feel that there is no rise and fall. Pulling back, he confirms that he sees no movement, and Dutch’s heart pauses in its place for a few moments. Lying his head in the middle of Arthur’s ribs, he still feels nothing; hears nothing.

Arthur is gone.

Dutch slowly lifts himself and looks to the omega’s face, still not completely believing that this has happened. That his ignorance caused this poor omega to die. Pulling Arthur into his arms, he sets the bottle aside, crosses his legs, and lies the omega across his lap, both arms wrapped snugly; protectively around his midsection as he hugs Arthur close.

The doctor steps in a minute or so later, Dutch silent as he holds who was going to be his omega.

“You knew, Graham,” Dutch is the first to speak, his voice a mere whisper as he tries to handle the situation better than it has gone in his mind the several times it’s played out. What is Dutch to do now? What can he do? Arthur’s been his driving force for the past few weeks, especially in the previous days. He has nothing to drive him now. “I came in, you saw me come in, and you didn’t tell me. You knew.” Dutch’s voice is a little louder, breaking through the thick silence laid upon them as soon as the doctor shuts the door behind himself.

“I tried to warn you, but you were in such a rush, you didn’t hear me,” Graham steps closer and looks down at the alpha, who is now slowly stroking his hand over Arthur’s back, holding him in a close hug, unreciprocated.

“How long,” Dutch says after several seconds of powerful silence, his voice quiet again as he stares off into space. “How long was he gone before I got here?”

“A few hours.” The alpha’s arms tense and he feels his brows crease, his eyes shutting. That long? Dutch felt like it took longer, but it still feels like that time measures up to be equal to a century.

“How did he…” Dutch drifts off, fingers still moving slowly over Arthur’s back.

“I wish I could say it was peaceful, sir, but—”

“Dutch. Call me Dutch.” He interrupts the doctor, feeling as if that level of trust is worth establishing a second time.

“Dutch.” The doctor nods before continuing. His own voice is quiet, caring; delicate. “He… seized, before he went completely still. I got the remains of the child out safely before it happened.” Dutch gently nods, still treating Arthur like he’s made of fine glass, thin enough to break with the blow of a single breath.

“It was my fault.” Dutch breathes out, hugging Arthur closer to keep from completely closing off from the world as he did when he held Kieran for the last time. He finds that this feels different, like it’s stronger than it was when his own mate died. He and Kieran had spent much more time together, but it seems that he and Arthur were always closer. It didn’t matter the amount of time. “I was his last chance.”

Graham slowly moves to sit beside Dutch, far enough to be at a respectful distance, but close enough to be helpful in helping Dutch work through this. He’s seen this happen before, he’s seen others grieve. Some shove him out to be alone, and others want nothing more than a shoulder to cry on, but Dutch seems to be something different. Somewhere in the middle, yet not quite.

“His last chance at a happy life, at something better than he’d had.” Dutch’s arms tighten a bit before they loosen, his shoulders raising. “And I failed him.”

“You meant a lot to him despite that, tell you what,” Graham says, and Dutch slowly looks up. “Rambled on and on about you, about how you met and he knew you were the one for him. Said he’d never tell you, but he loved you.” Dutch nods, smiles a bit, and catches his vision clouding as he laughs through a powerful sob. “Loved the tattoo on your shoulder, he said. Thought it was beautiful on you, but not on anyone else.” Dutch clings to Arthur like he’s the breath in Dutch’s lungs, or the blood in his veins. In a way, he is.

“He tell you about how we got into this mess?”

“Briefly.”

“Few days after we picked him up, I was in rut, and he busted into my room.” Dutch heaves a slow inhale as he prepares to explain everything he despises himself for overlooking. “I coaxed him into heat, thinking we wouldn’t be disturbed, and then we heard the gunshots from outside,” Dutch spares him the details, not wanting to be seen as the complete enemy in this situation, even to Graham. “I ran down to fend them off, and while I wasn’t looking, he…”

Graham listens, watching as Dutch embraces Arthur so closely, watches as the man’s eyelashes slowly get wetter and wetter, but never allow a full tear to fall, watches as he crumbles inside, and gently allows that feeling to seep through his words and disturb them in the simplest of ways.

“Disappeared for weeks. Six… weeks.” Dutch looks up, not quite at Graham, and stares off into the nothingness of grief. “Came back after we’d searched for him that long, and a couple days pass, we find out he’s pregnant. Pregnant with that god-awful alpha’s child.” Dutch shakes his head and lowers his eyes again, watching his fingers as they trail along the same path they’ve been pacing for the past few minutes. “Took him to the doctor in Saint Denis.”

“And that doctor gave you the arsenic?”

“Promised us it wouldn’t hurt him.” Dutch’s hands clench into fists and he trembles for a moment as he tenses his muscles and wills himself not to completely come undone. “Told us it would just fix the issue. Would get rid of it. Why was I so foolish.”

“You were desperate, so was he.” Graham tries to be the sword in the stone for Dutch, trying to hold him up while he’s mentally collapsing at such a quick rate.

Dutch doesn’t reply, holding Arthur like he should’ve been held from the first day he walked this earth. The way Dutch should’ve held him as soon as they were together in that carriage, instead of how Dutch latched a collar to him and treated him like he was nothing more than a housemaid. That was the plan: to use Arthur as a figure in his brilliant scheme of removing Molly from the scene, but it didn’t work out quite as he’d hoped. Arthur meant too much for no damn good reason other than destiny.

Destiny.

“I brought the ruby back,” Dutch slowly removes an arm from around Arthur and retrieves it from his pocket, holding it out to the doctor. “At least you kept your half of the deal so I’ll return this to you.”

“To hell with the ruby, Dutch.” Graham shakes his head and pushes it back towards the man. “I don’t want it anymore.”

“I’m keeping my half of the deal, Graham.”

“But I didn’t keep mine.” Dutch looks at him, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Sure he did, he kept Arthur here, kept him safe. “You trusted me with his life, Dutch, and I do not deserve that trust anymore.” The alpha is about to shake his head, but he remembers the man saying that vividly. So he pulls the ruby back. The deep red, almost purple shade, and its size, must mean that it’s got a pretty hefty price on it. He ought to hide that as best as he can, or return it to its rightful owner.

“You should still have it,” Dutch actually shakes his head this time, setting it on the floor by Graham’s foot. “It wasn’t your fault, you simply didn’t have a way to fix it.” The alpha feels as if Arthur’s death, or maybe just Arthur in general, has changed him. He feels like there’s less of a pull towards his selfish nature, and more towards one of a righteous kind. It’s almost distressing, in a way, seeing that Arthur can draw this kind of a feeling out of him.

“No.” Graham says, denying Dutch’s draw towards righting his wrongs. He keeps eye contact with Graham as the man lifts it and holds it between them. Holds it just before Dutch, who is still grieving over the loss of his omega. “Take it. Pay for his funeral with it, or spend it some other way. Just so long as it’s for him. Alright?”

And there, staring at a doctor he’s known for a total of half an hour, Dutch finally breaks down and allows a tear to fall quickly along his cheek. He smiles and nods, taking the ruby back into his possession for good. This man truly wants to see the good in the world. Dutch believes that Arthur would’ve loved him if he’d truly gotten the time to get to know him before he was poisoned.

“Thank you,” Dutch smiles wider, pulling the deep maroon gem closer and looking at it. “You’re a wonderful man with a heart of gold.” He lifts a hand and wipes his eye, but it’s followed by another salty drop, and another from the other eye.

“Wouldn’t say that,” Graham shifts to his knees, reaching forward and gently sifting his fingers through the sandy hair on Arthur’s head. “I ain’t been a good man, Dutch, but if I can help in any other way?”

“You’ve helped enough,” Dutch takes Graham’s hand and nods. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

Dutch, accompanied closely by Arthur, is sent back to Annesburg in the first stagecoach possible within the end of the day, where he thankfully meets the rest of the gang back at camp. He walks up with his omega in his arms, eyes a little redder than they were when he’d first left them that night, however long it had been since then. He couldn’t keep track with everything going on, but he hadn’t really cared to.

There were a few options brought up by the other members of the gang, but looking at Arthur, Dutch can’t bring himself to want anything more than the most natural of burials, while still being respectful.

He uses the ruby to pay for the casket, dressed up without being too over the top. It’s made out of a fine mahogany, but that doesn’t stop Dutch from whittling a design into the lid with a perfectly-sharpened knife. He spends hours bent over it, to the point of Susan complaining about his health, but Dutch doesn’t pay much mind to her as he copies the pattern from his tattoo into the deep red grain.

Using the money left from Arthur’s pocket, he’s able to pay for a beautiful headstone, engraved with a gorgeous rendition of his name.

With the money left altogether, he purchases a fine-fitting outfit for Arthur and gives the remaining funds to Graham. The man is hesitant to take it at first, but Dutch insists, so the man thankfully accepts the money Dutch had only briefly thought about gifting.

“Arthur,” Dutch smiles a little, glancing over at the casket with the print skillfully dug into the wood, and then to his omega. The man’s gotten thinner, that’s for sure, but it’s only been a couple of days and the rest of the camp has been working hard to keep him warm and smelling as he had just days before. “You’re beautiful, my sweet omega.”

Lifting the vest for the outfit, Dutch slowly works Arthur’s arms through the holes and fastens it, gently lying the omega back onto the bed as soon as it’s fixed. The outfit is finished with a bow intricately tied around Arthur’s neck, Dutch smiling and pulling him into a small embrace as he clears his throat and forces his tears away.

Today is Arthur’s funeral, and he wouldn’t have wanted Dutch to cry, and neither does the alpha.

Dutch looks at his omega and waves to the coach outside, fashioned with an area for the casket to sit safely for the journey out to the spot Dutch had picked. It’s just beneath a strong apple tree clearly planted so many years ago it would be difficult to try and estimate now, but there’s a draw to it, for some strange reason.

It couldn’t’ve been that there was a house sat beside it once upon a time, but has been demolished by nature over the years.

So Dutch pulls Arthur into his arms and looks the man over as soon as they’re outside and he’s set the poor thing into the casket.

Truly, he’s one to remember, all dressed up and with nowhere to go, as he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this journey!


End file.
